Jordan's Silhouette
by HazySunray
Summary: 'I was not mauled by a bear. I was not raped by my ex. I was not found in a barren field, or fighting a war. I was dying of an invisible disease. I was choking on water and tripping over air. I was a burden to my family and unnecessary to the world.' There's a new addition to the Cullen family! Will Jordan's new, healthy body be enough to abandon morality? What do the others think?
1. Chapter 1: Don't worry, it's normal

Okay, in case you guys haven't read everything, this is going to be a family-fic with a lot of angst & hurt+comfort and general coming of age kind of thinking.

Also, there strong will probably be spanking in later chapters /strong but this will not be your typical bawling-over-someone's-lap kind of spanking and instead will be more of a serious disagreement on the whole matter. Trust me when I say that I don't know how to write spank-fics seeing as I have never been spanked myself. I'm going to write about the awkward situation one like myself would be placed in if they ever found themselves over someone's knees wondering why the fuck their ass is in the air.

On another note, I hope you enjoy it, since I know that there are a LOT of OC fics out there that are basically just the personification of the writer in another universe. I will try to keep that to a minimum. :)

* * *

I was not mauled by a bear. I was not raped by my ex. I was not found in a barren field, or fighting a war.

I was confined to a hospital bed. I know you're thinking about my brother, but I'm not him. Besides the way in which we were created, we share no other similarities. (Well, yeah, okay, we both have brown hair, big whoop.) But I was not dying of the same thing as him. You see, I was dying in the year of 2005. We had big time medicine and great doctors and personal hygiene and whatnot. What we didn't have, though, was the cure to Spinocerebellar Ataxia.

It appears as though I'm leaving out some big, important chunk of my life, but I'm not. Whatever came before that, doesn't matter. Once you're condemned and know you're about to die, nothing else matters. Not your brother, or your father, or even your mother. Mother... lovely mother, with warm hazel eyes and full, smiling lips and freckles on the soles of her feet... No. It doesn't matter.

What mattered then, was that I had fallen down _once again_ and had cracked my head open on the pavement. Upon opening my eyes, my gaze was met with the most piercing shock of concerned amber orbs I had ever seen. He looked like a movie star, or a model for a well-off suit company. Blonde hair, strong chin, straight nose, pale skin and a name-tag that read 'Dr. CULLEN'. It took me a moment to realize I was laid out on a gurney as though on display and being wheeled through a sterile white hallway at a ridiculously nauseating speed.

A cold hand had found its way to my forehead, then, and I'd heard the words, "Stay with us," and not opened my eyes to see the misery laced in the last words my human ears would ever hear.

So, no, I was not mauled by a bear. I do not understand such pain.

I was not raped by my ex. I do not understand such pain.

I was not found in a barren field. I do not understand such pain.

I was not fighting a war. I do not understand such pain.

I was not staving off infection. I do not understand such pain.

I was dying of an invisible disease. I was choking on water and tripping over air. I was a burden to my family and unnecessary to the world. The only thing I can be grateful for was that I smacked my head on concrete before my family did it for me. At least I had still been able to shuffle forward awkwardly on my own, then. I can't imagine the horrors my family would have had to face if they had had to take care of my immobile body each and every day for the rest of my life.

But my story didn't end the way you must assume it did. Yes, there had been the brain hemorrhage and other internal bleeding, but no, I hadn't died. At least not in the way you're thinking of. The doctor with his striking image of perfection had whispered something to me before he slipped my eyes shut, but my confusion had mixed up his words until I couldn't untangle and dissect their meaning. Before I knew it, he'd clamped his teeth on the frail skin of my neck and I'd cried out, screamed until my voice was hoarse and screamed some more. Only when my wailing had become a high-pitched gust of exhalation had I been able to hear his soothing whispers of, "It'll be alright now, don't worry, it's going to be okay, you're doing just fine."

But I wasn't doing fine. My body felt like it was on fire, my sense of vision was becoming blurred and my lungs hurt as much as they did the first time I'd tried smoking and had inhaled much too strongly. I wish I could describe the pain to you more clearly, but the only words that come up when I try are 'hot' and 'long-lasting'. Oh, and 'terrifying'.

My transformation took three days to complete. Three days of excrutiating pain and suffering. Three days of alternative screaming and moaning and cursing God. I had been able to fall asleep for short intervals, but it seemed more like I had been hallucinating. Plagued by nightmares, it had been almost better to remain cognizant. The part which I remember the most about my turning, though, were those kind, honey-dew eyes that seemed to tell me how sorry they were. How sorry they were for the pain I was in, how sorry they were for the pain I'd had to deal with my entire life... If only they knew how blissfully painless it would become soon enough. If only I could tell them that I would be alright - that I would crack right through purgatory and rest on cotton balls in Heaven.

But just when the pain started to blend together in a sort of tangled numbness, I felt a rough shiver wrack my spine and pull me onto my feet. As soon as my toes touched the ice cold ground -or were my toes ice cold and the ground smoldering hot?- I felt the jolt of musculature expand in my thighs and send me several feet further. And ultimately, as though only really seeing for the very first time, my gaze locked with those steady, amber eyes which still radiated concern.

Though I must admit I was rather concerned, myself.

"Easy there, child, you shouldn't be moving yet."

I felt this irrepressible urge to crack my neck and turned it from side to side, exhaling happily as it loosened.

"Shouldn't I?" I asked.

The honey-dew eyes glowed and I detected a smile on the pale and handsome face.

"No," he said, and he gently gripped my arm and led me over to the couch where he made me sit, "on the contrary," he finished lamely, as if I needed the extra clarification.

I felt like I was surrounded by a thick and heavy fog, for no matter how many times I scanned my surroundings, the image of them wouldn't stick in my mind. I couldn't remember if his shirt was pale blue or forest green, and I kept forgetting what his voice sounded like, which made me look up every time he spoke to me, thinking it was somebody new who was directing their focus onto someone as vague and unimportant as myself.

But I could always remember the shape and colour of his eyes. Little golden spheres seemed to dance around his pupils and retract into daffodil flecks as they dilated. A swarm of tuesday-morning-sunlight surrounded the edges which in turn was circled by a final stroke of caramel frappucino.

An indescribable amount of time passed before I was able to discern my fingers from my toes and look up at him and see that his shirt had actually been maroon.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently. He had the voice of a comedian - easy to listen to, luring to a fault, deep, rich and yet chipper. He didn't swallow his consonants, or raise his voice on the vowels. And me, being so stupid so as to think about these things, didn't think for one second about what he'd asked me or how to reply.

A hand touched my forehead and I was drawn to the thought of heat. For some reason his hand was neither hot nor cold and I felt myself wishing for the sting of fire burning in a cascade down my back.

"Miss Walker?" he asked, and in a split second he was doctor Cullen again, wheeling me into the emergency room.

"What happened to me?" I asked, my voice sounding shrill to my own ears.

"Are you feeling alright?" he deflected.

"Um-yeah... I'm thirsty, though." And suddenly I realised just _how_ thirsty I was. "Very." And very wasn't enough to describe this parched feeling of longing for anything to soothe my burning throat. My very esophagus prickled with an itchy sort of sting.

"Don't worry, that's normal. Let's get you something to drink."

I don't know why I noticed this, but I always think about the little things, and it confused me when he helped me up. Usually, doctors or nurses would recommend lying flat, unmoving, dead to the world. Why was he prodding me into movement for a simple glass of water?

By the time I finished pondering this, we were standing outside in the cool night breeze, and a voice in my head was whispering _'Because it's not a glass of water you want'_.

A wave of dizziness came over me and I remember thinking 'Please can we cut the ridiculously confusing bullshit for tonight?' before losing all sense of self.

* * *

Okay so that was chapter one! Let me know what you think!

Or I could make it easy on you and you'll only have to write a number:

1) Meh, could've been much better.

2) TERRIBLE!

3) I've already read a lot of these stories, and this one wasn't anything special.

4) It's ... peculiar.

5) Okay, you've prickled my interest, I'll keep reading and see if it's worth the while.

6) It's better than the other stories I've read that are similar to this one.

7) You're doing good, cookieface :)


	2. Chapter 2: So I am dead?

Hurray for Carlisle's P.O.V.! Let's see if I can not mess him up :)

* * *

I watch the newborn tear the doe's throat open with fangs that drip with venom thrice as powerful as my own. Venom that hadn't been there mere days ago. Venom that had replaced the blood which, for all intents and purposes, had evaporated into thin air.

I'd watched her screaming during the transformation, and had told myself to hold her, but I could not. Edward's words still lingered in my mind and staving them off took all my effort.

_ "Why? Why do you always feel like you need to save people?! Carlisle, you said so yourself - you don't know what we are, or why we exist, or if we are even allowed to go to a place like Heaven! We have no souls! Why would you condemn a child to a life like ours when she is so obviously a believer!" _

And she was. She'd told me through gurgled gasps that I need not worry, pretty angel, since God would not allow her to pay for her sins much longer. And I'd been incapable of holding her hand, or brushing some stray hairs from her face. All I had been able to do was repeat how sorry I was.

But seeing her now, seeing the enhanced beauty of the child who had been condemned to a life of misery, I feel a sense of justification in my acts. Why not save her? I had saved Edward from certain death, and he never compl- well, that's not right, is it? He's told me plenty times how hard he finds it to believe that we are anything but monsters.

Esme, then! A sweet, loving creature like Esme could never be a monster. Nor could my little Alice, or daring Rosalie, or sensitive Jasper, or even my bear of a boy; Emmet. And as hard as Edward may find it to come to terms with it himself, I know that he is no monster. He is a kind, gentle spirit, who at times can be rough around the edges and a bit stuck-up, but we all have our flaws.

_'And here is mine'_, I think as I walk up to her. I care too much for all things living. I have an incessant amount of respect for life. Even a life that others would not call worth living.

"Are you feeling better, miss Walker?" I ask her. I really should stop calling her that, but I'm afraid she might get agressive if I get a little too personal. I'm always afraid around the newborns. Not of them, but of scaring them off. I know how heavy the burden of responsibility is when you turn a human, and I do not want to see any of my children subjected to the horrors of vampiric mistakes.

They have all made them, and none of them have ever been able to come to terms with their regrets. Which is why I try my hardest to keep them from straying from our path - to keep them from turning into the things they detest the most.

She looks up with a glint of fear in her eyes, mixed with a sense of shock, as though she wasn't fully aware of my presence. I know not to worry - Emmett was like this as well when I changed him. (My bear of a boy had run fourty miles from the house until he'd collected his sense of self and stared at his hands like they were the most uncommon set of appendages he'd ever had the pleasure to come by.)

"Doc-" she takes a second to swallow, even though it is unnecessary, "Doctor Cullen?" she asks.

"Yes, dear," I reply, and hunch down in front of her.

"Where-" she starts, and then stares down at her slippered feet, which have blood splatters on them. She lifts her gaze to her fingertips, which are likewise covered in blood, and her hospital gown which is in a similar state. "Why am I covered in blood?"

She asks this so calmly I am taken aback for a second, recognizing that deep inflection in her tone of voice as something I should be hearing in a mental ward.

"I realize you have a lot of questions, and I want to answer them as honestly as I can." Ugh, this is always the hardest part. "You were sick, miss Walker, can you remember that?"

She nods.

"Do you remember which disease you had?"

"Spinocerebellar Ataxia." The words roll off her tongue the way they should when you're the patient.

"Indeed. You had only lived a very short life and put up such a fight in a tremendously hard and trying situation, only to die way before your time."

"So... I am dead?"

_Yes._ "No. Now, I know this is a lot to process, but... I am a vampire, miss Walker, and I turned you into a vampire so that you could live the life that was taken from you before your time."

"W-what-excuse me? No. No, you're-you're doctor Cullen. You were treating me. You can't- you can't be a-a-..." She giggles then, hysterically, and I wonder if perhaps this is what happens to crazy people if you turn them into vampires.

"That's ridiculous!" she cries out then. "Vampires, if they do exist, can not be out in daylight, for one," she starts, but she then sees how dark it is and rethinks her line of thought before continuing, "and they can't stand crucifixes, which the hospital is filled with! And if you're so blood-thirsty, how come you work in a hospital filled with-" she stops then, very abruptly, and turns to look at the doe not even three feet away from her.

Trembling fingers touch her lip, and though they had already been soiled with blood, when she looks at them again, she makes the connection.

I can see her eyes cloud over with a million questions and make a suggestion, "For now, let's get you back to the house, get you cleaned up, and when things are calmer in your head we can go over this properly."

I know the technical terms must disturb her. I know it must be annoying to hear words which were previously used for simple things, like school work or family arguments. Not changing into a vampire. But I can't let her let go of these human emotions.

But she does not snarl at me, or even roll her eyes. She nods instead, with this dreamy look on her face, and follows me back. I walk at a human pace because I know there is only so much she could take in at one time, but am compelled to walk a little faster when I feel the questions she desperately wants to ask prickling the hairs at the base of my neck.

* * *

She is uncomfortable in my house, even though I sent everyone away earlier. They know very well what it's like to undergo the change, and agreed to go on a hunting trip together.

Miss Walker's small feet make little sound on the staircase and I can almost hear her thinking how strange that is, as if she's taking in all the little details about everything around her. Strangely enough, she doesn't think twice about the student graduate caps she sees on display on the wall, the way the others have. She doesn't even sniff the air when she passes each room, almost as though she's accepted what she is and knows the deals of the trade.

I stand in the doorway and watch her avoid her reflection in the mirror, instead keeping her gaze trained on the washcloth she's running under hot water before scrubbing her face clean. She scrubs furiously at her glassy fingernails before turning to face me and asking me if she missed anything.

I look at the tattered hospital gown for a second, but my focus is drawn to the bloody bitemarks on her neck. I softly pry the washcloth from her grip and press it against the wound, earning a hiss from the young female.

"Sorry," I murmur, cleaning the wound as best I can. Underneath the dried blood and venom are two circle-shaped white scars which will fade in under a day. And though I am centuries old, I know how much it will continue to hurt her for years to come.

"Miss Walker-" I start, but am cut off by a sudden fierce grip on my shirt as she twists her fists around the fabric. Her head is bent down and I can see her slender frame quiver as elegant shoulders tremble erratically.

"Miss Walker," I say again, but no words come to mind when she doesn't start screaming things at me the way Rosalie had after I'd changed her. Come to think of it, I hadn't said all that much that time, either, mostly thrusting the emotional part into Esme's capable hands. I had been able to comfort Edward and Esme, but Rosalie had been very clear on the fact that what she wanted was most definitely not what I gave her and I had not been able to stave off the guilt that had infected my heart so I had had to burden my soulmate with both Rosalie's and my own devastation.

This child was different.

She is not very vocal on the matter, and that seems to make it easier for me to bear, even though a small voice in my head is telling me that that's wrong of me. That I should be able to talk to her and comfort her, instead of allowing her to grab hold of my shirt and bawl tearlessly into the air.

And so I wrap my arms around her. She seems to need it, for no more than a second later, she sags against me and cries like the world has been taken from her.

As I allow the venom tears to soak my shirt, I realize that in a way, it has.

* * *

An angsty chapter, I'll admit. Please let me know what you think! The numbers still apply :)


	3. Chapter 3: Just overwhelmed

Aaaand back to our newly-turned vampire!

Here's a quick question, too! Which one of the Cullen boys would you rather have as your brother and why? And which of the sisters?

I am totally expecting Emmett&Alice answers.

* * *

_ He keeps calling me Miss Walker._

_Why does he do that? Doesn't he know my name?_

_Where's Mom, anyway? Why isn't she here?_

_How was he able to snatch me from a hospital so easily?_

_Was I pronounced dead? No. That's impossible. People would have come to check up on me, to make sure._

_Mom would have been holding my hand._

_Did he declare me missing?_

_Do they think I trotted off on unsteady legs?_

_Mom must be worried sick!_

_Although... I hit my head, right? Perhaps... perhaps Mom had allowed the doctors to give me my eternal rest._

_..._

_Perhaps she gave up on me._

"Miss Walker?" doctor Cullen asks, and I realize suddenly that I am still cradled in his strong, rock-hard arms.

"Why did this happen?" I ask, even though they aren't the words I meant to say. I meant to ask him where my mother was, but for some reason I couldn't utter this.

"Because you weren't meant to die at the tender age of sixteen. I am well aware of the struggle young people with Spinocerebellar Ataxia go through, and I know that the life you've lived this past year hasn't really been a life at all. You deserve to live, miss Walker. This-"

But I interrupt him. "Please, don't call me miss Walker anymore."

"Alright."

It is said so easily. So brightly. 'Alright'. As if I could ask him to tear off my head and he would simply respond with an airy 'alright'.

"Doctor Cullen-" I mean to ask, but it is his turn to interrupt me.

"Please, call me Carlisle."

"Carlisle," I comply, "what happened out there... with that deer?"

"It was a doe, actually. But to answer your question, your vampire instincts took over. You allowed your body the sustenance it needed and went after your prey the way we all do. There is no shame in needing blood, and none in the hunger for human blood, either, even though we do not agree with said way of life."

"But... I'm a vegetarian."

His eyebrow crinkles for a second, and then he's pressing his fist to his mouth, trying to contain a chuckle. I raise a brow and he can't repress it anymore, laughing heartily into the air.

"Oh, if that's the worst of our problems I think we'll be fine."

I am hurt by the way he brushes off the way I chose to live my human life and respond to it. "It's not fine at all, doctor Cullen," I say, purposely not calling him by his first name, "I just broke a promise I made to myself years ago. For years on end I did not eat animal meat, and now I go and slaughter one to drink its blood. This is not right."

"Well, technically you didn't break your rule. Did you eat any meat?"

"No - I did something much worse. I left the animal there to rot. I didn't even use all of it. I just sucked it dry." Tears are cascading down my cheeks again, and though I was bawling into his neck only minutes earlier, I wipe them away fitfully. "I can not kill innocent animals so that I survive, Carlisle. It is wrong."

"Alright, we'll think of a solution, don't worry. For now, I would like to clear up any more questions you might have."

"Okay. I would like to know how you got me out of the hospital."

"How?"

"Yes, how you managed to make everyone believe I was dead."

"You were, Jordan."

It's the first time he says my name, and for some reason it jump-starts a section in my brain that withheld the memory from me earlier.

_ "Patient is stabilised, doctor."_

_"She doesn't have much time."_

"But - but you were there when it happened and I was awake! I remember, you covered my eyes!"

"That was long before the coma. We put you under because you couldn't sleep earlier, what with the brain hemorrhage. But then your vitals started dropping again and your brain was denied enough oxygen. You slipped into a coma. We knew you didn't have much time anymore. I was the only doctor left to check up on you after that, and I declared you dead before I changed you."

"But-but what about my body!"

"That, unfortunately, is not something I can cover up easily. Even if I convinced Frank that Thomas had already cremated your body, there was no way I could convince your family that the hospital had decided to make the decision for them."

"So... I suppose there is quite a commodity about a missing body, now..."

He smiles slightly. "I suppose."

"And what about you? Will they come after you?"

"Don't worry your little head about that. We will move, the way we have moved for the others, as well. We'll stay in D.C., though. But we can't risk people recognizing you, so we'll go to a quiet, small place. I will tell the people at the hospital that my guilt over not keeping a more watchful eye over your body has torn me apart and caused me to quit."

Instead of telling him I am touched that he would do such a thing for me, I ask him about 'the others'.

"Well, there's Edward, my first companion, who-"

Just then, I hear sounds coming from downstairs.

"Oh, well, I suppose you might as well go meet them yourself. They're awfully early..." He mutters the last part to himself as he stands the both of us up and puts a hand on my head as we exit the bathroom.

I follow him downstairs slowly, uncertain about these complete strangers who were apparently just like me. I can hear their voices from what I assume is the living room, and when Carlisle makes his appearance they all stop talking simultaneously. I stand somewhat uncertainly behind the doctor, certain that this is the moment where I will either be bombarded with questions and answers in return, or where I will take off running. The latter seems pretty tempting to me at this moment.

I hear a soft snort and look up, right into golden eyes that are similar to Carlisle's, but less gentle. They are the same shade of amber, but hold no honey-dew or SundaysAtTiffany's. They are calculating and smart and honestly scare me a little.

"Guys," Carlisle says, taking the calculating amber eyes' attention off of me, "this is Jordan Walker." I cringe inwardly at the sound of my name. I look up.

"Joe," I whisper, but it seems as though they've all understood me.

I take a second to take in their appearances and think about their personalities. I love doing that - working out how different minds function and why. I like thinking about being a different person altogether, as well.

There's the one that snorted. I know I'll avoid looking at him altogether if I don't cross that bridge straight away so I take in the bronze locks which are haphazardly strewn across his scalp, the little lines of stubble along his jaw, the strength of his cheekbones and the way he sits in the recliner as though he has nothing to fear from me. (Which he obviously doesn't.)

I move on to a friendlier face. The girl has short, dark pixie-cut hair and happy, glinting amber eyes. Almost as though Tinkerbell sprinkled fairy dust into them. I love Tinkerbell and I feel a sense of trepidation when I realize just how badly I want to get to know this girl.

_Calm your tits, Joe! She's just a friendly face! Don't act like you've never seen someone kind-looking before. _

The person sitting next to her has wavey, wheat-coloured hair, and eyes the colour of whiskey. He seems calm, but I can see him slip his hand into the pixie-like female's slender one and I feel a stab of dread.

_I was probably looking at the girl with too much interest, he's probably protecting his favourite sister from me or something. _

And so, labeling the fair-haired boy as a steer-clear zone, I move my gaze onto the boy sitting next to him who appears to be a little less than twice his size. He's wearing a strange smile on his face, like he wants to make me feel welcome yet without presuming too much. Like he's saying, 'You're a part of the family now, but don't push your luck with Carlisle'.

It's a pity he doesn't know I wouldn't even dare consider it.

Seated next to him is a beautiful blonde with the same golden eyes as everyone else, yet hers seem just a tad more... golden. They truly remind me of fancy jewellery and fake teeth. She looks like a better version of a barbie doll. But what strikes me the most is the look of pity she sends me. It sends shivers up my spine and makes me avert eye-contact so I can look at the last member of the family.

Instantly, my eyes tear up again and I'm backing up until I hit what I presume to be a wall.

_Too much. They are too alike._

_I can't do this. This can't be true._

_I have to - I have to calm down._

_Get your shit together, Jordan._

_But she looks just like-_

_- I know._

"Is there something wrong mi- Jordan?"

"No-no, nothing's wrong. I was just a little.. overwhelmed."

I so hope he takes it as a compliment to him and his beautiful family instead of the reason for my mini heart-attack.

"Understandable," he replies, smiling gently. "Guys, how 'bout you introduce yourselves to Jordan?"

I feel stupid with my back pressed against the wall, but I feel safe and secure so I am stuck like a sticker and not planning to move any time soon.

"I'm Alice," the pixie-like girl introduces herself when everyone else is silent, "and this is Jasper." She holds up their intertwined fingers for a moment so I can tell who she's talking about.

"Emmett," says the burly-looking boy, still smiling that odd smile at me. The blonde leans against his side a little and utters, "Rosalie" in a throaty voice.

"Edward," comes next, and it takes all my courage to look him in the eye for as long as it takes for the last person to introduce themselves.

"And I'm Esme," she says, standing up and walking over to Carlisle, who secures an arm around her waist. There is no question about these two, just as there is no longer a question about Jasper and Alice.

I try to keep my mind on these things and on the small details around us like the maddening tick-tock tick-tock of the clock in the other room, and the fluffy red carpet-strings underneath my feet. I try so very hard to look at Alice while it happens, but I can not stop Esme from walking over to me, and therefore I can not ignore her when she halts in front of me, blocking my view of the girl behind her.

"You don't need to be afraid of me, dear. I promise nobody is going to hurt you, honey."

Honey. Her voice is dripping with it. Not the fake kind that I'm used to at school, but the actual, genuine warmth and care only a mother can exhibit. I find myself choking a little on my grief.

Luckily I don't need to think about what to say to her, because suddenly Jasper coughs uneasily and Alice smiles at him to relieve the tension. That little act seems to have given the family free reign on anything they feel the need to blurt out, because suddenly I am bombared with a dozen questions at once.

"Do you like baseball?" comes from Emmett.

"Who's your favourite designer?" Alice.

"How about X-box?" Emmett again.

"Do you like Denny Rose?"

"Give her a chance to breathe guys. Why don't you start by telling us where you're from?" Rosalie.

"Pff, that doesn't matter. How well can you swing a bat?"

"Are you a casual dresser or more Indie or rather chic?"

"You _are_ from the U.S. right?"

"Do you like monopoly?"

The last question is asked by Jasper, and for some reason, I really feel the need to answer this one.

"Yes!" I utter instantly, reminded of the happy times I used to spend at the living room table playing Monopoly Europe edition.

"To everything?" Alice asks.

"Uh, yeah, well, I do like baseball and I likes gaming as well but I'm not very good at it. I like Denny Rose and I can swing a bat pretty hard just not very straight. And yeah, I am from the United States of America. And I used to play monopoly all the time when I was little."

"When you _were_ little?" Emmett reiterates, gazing down at my small stature mockingly.

"Emmett, don't tease her, she's not short - she's travel-sized for convenience," Alice quotes.

"Why are you in a hospital gown?" Edward asks suddenly, instantly freezing the warm atmosphere we'd settled into.

"Well I uh..."

"You know very well why, Edward, since I explained Jordan's situation to all of you before she turned," Carlisle scolds.

_ He makes it sound like I turned of my own volition. Besides, if he knew, why would he ask? To test me? To see if I could come to terms with my situation? To see if I would tell them the truth? Why? Why would he test my trustworthiness and expect a good result after having just met me? I wouldn't trust someone I just met. _

For some reason, he seems to get annoyed all of a sudden, and I wonder if Carlisle's reprimand really cut him so deeply.

"Ah, sorry Carlisle, it slipped my mind."

Carlisle smiles a little and for some reason this annoys Edward because he turns his head away after a few seconds and appears to be snarling at the window.

"So, I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but I believe we should let you rest for a while before we go into any further details. Alice, why don't you show her to her temporary room? I'll go check up on the passports and such."

Alice nods cheerfully and the Carlisle-Esme duo exits the room. "How about Forks, dear? I hear it's a very quaint little town," Esme tries to persuade the doctor as they leave.

Before I can even swallow the apprehension knotting into a thick clot in my throat, Alice grabs me by the hand and pulls me toward the back of the house. We pass several rooms which are all neat and clean and sort of bare and empty. I wonder about the lack of knick knacks and decoration but don't dare pose the question.

And then Alice is opening the door and I don't know why but I had expected a bland white room with a freshly-sheeted bed pushed against the wall underneath the window and perhaps even a rug to warm my cold bare toes. Instead I am met with brown tiles and a lamp in the corner of the room. There are no windows and there is no bed. There is a little recliner, though, and someone has taken the time to throw a blanket over the back of it.

I know I shouldn't be feeling any sort of disappointment, which immediately fills me with guilt. I should be happy that they went out of their way to find a place for me to call my own at all.

_But I _had_ a place I called my own... why am I here and not there?_ I think sadly, but I smile at Alice when she starts to chat about random things in such a lively manner that I feel like it would hurt her if I didn't correspond.

"I'm so happy I warned Carlisle of your situation! You have no idea how long I've wanted a little sister!" she announces cheerfully.

"What do you mean?" I am compelled to ask.

"Well, I can see the future. I came to Carlisle's office one day to deliver the package that came at the door and was supposedly very urgent, which I don't really believe it was because if it had been I surely would have seen it, but anyway, when I arrived there I saw a certain room that made me get a vision of you cracking your head and so I warned Carlisle that you would probably be a patient in the hospital. He told me not to worry about it, since as you know, the future is constantly in motion, and I had so hoped that you would just stay home that day. Though, if you had, I never would have met you. You remind me of Cynthia a little, you know."

This 'nitbit' of information is too much to process at the current time so I swallow a little weakly and ask, "Cynthia?"

"My little sister from way back when. She's dead now, but you look like her when she was your age."

And there's another question that keeps bothering me. I keep my mouth shut though, knowing that this is probably not the time to be annoying and demand things of them 24/7.

There's a different matter I can not ignore, though. "So, wait, you're psychic or something?"

"Oh, right, we haven't really explained everything to you in an elaborate way, have we? I suppose Carlisle just wanted you to gain some insight on everything that was happening in the moment so you wouldn't worry too much about all the rest. I mean, we're moving tomorrow, and we really don't need any unnecessary complications."

Complications? Would my confusion be a complication?

"Right," I reply dejectedly, sort of sad that she didn't give me any more details about this gift of hers. Then something else entirely grabs my attention and I half-shout, "Wait, tomorrow?!"

"Yes of course. We need to leave as soon as possible. If we don't, people will start asking questions and it'll all dwindle down to Carlisle and this family."

"But no I can't leave we need to I mean I need to stay if only for a little longer so that so that I could have a chance at just... before we leave... I need to-"

Tears are filling my eyes again and before I know it, I'm inhaling sharply and pushing back sobs but I fail miserably and break out into full-on crying. Strong arms wrap around me and I don't even really care who is holding me anymore at this point.

_ Mom. _

* * *

Okay, to clear things up a little: for those of you who are annoyed with my way of writing about Edward, I would like to let you know that he's been reading her mind the entire time. The things she thinks about him aren't exactly what you would call 'nice' and he responds to them likewise. And he isn't trying to be cold at all or anything, just careful. Just wait for the next chapter, you'll see! :)

Please let me know what you think! :D


	4. Chapter 4: Thanks for trying

Edward's P.O.V.!

* * *

Her grip on my sweater is tight and her slight frame shivers quite profusely. I can't help but feel pity for this poor, helpless creature, clinging to a virtual stranger in order to remain in one piece. I can tell that she's trying extremely hard not to fall apart, but given the thoughts that are running through her head, I can tell that she's to have a mental breakdown. And soon.

I can relate to this part of her, though. Her thoughts center on her mother, who had been the only one she could trust with anything. It's understandable that she wishes to return to her warm embrace and spill all of our secrets, but we can not let her. We have to force her to stay with us, so we can make sure she doesn't inform anyone of our existence.

Yet another reason why I don't approve of Carlisle's reasoning. It had been different with me - my mother had passed away and then begged Carlisle to look after me. It had been different with Rosalie as well. She had wanted nothing more than to leave behind her past existence. Emmett had been a little difficult to persuade at first, claiming that his family would never betray him (and as much as we know this to be true, we can't take any risks,) but eventually he came around when he felt safe in the knowledge that he would always have his angel, Rose, to accompany him. Esme had been a grown woman by then. She certainly had had to leave behind a lot of her friends, but she technically didn't even have to pretend to be dead. Her friends had even thrown her a goodbye-party and had wished her all the best when they heard that she and her new husband would be moving to another state.

But this girl, Jordan, had left behind a very loving and caring mother, without so much as a goodbye. Sighing, I tapped into her thoughts again, listening intently.

_I should leave behind a note or something. 'I'm safe' should do the trick. Or perhaps leave her a "sign" or something, like let loose a dozen butterflies or so in her room. I have to at least go home to get medical records and stuff like that. Carlisle would understand, wouldn't he? But how much time does that take? Fucking crap I don't know what to do... I can't make them wait for me, especially since they're moving FOR me. Why are they all moving, anyway? Couldn't he have just turned me and left me to my own devices? Why is he making them all adapt to me? Why are they allowing it to happen?_

"Because believe it or not, we care about you. You're one of us now." Shit, had I said that out-loud? And had that been a lie or the truth?

I'm somewhat happy to hear her cuss and think the same (well, the part about saying stuff out-loud) but when she comes to the conclusion that no, she isn't someone who opens her mouth and blabs about things without thinking them through first, her penetrating gaze flickers up at me and I have to stop myself from regressing back to my human antics and unnecessarily swallowing nonexistant saliva.

"How-how did you know I was thinking about that?" she asks uncertainly, looking at me with big yellow eyes that seem to glow in the dark.

"I'm a mind reader," I answer plainly. No use in withholding the truth at this point. She stares at me, her mouth agape, for a few seconds. I am drawn to the little freckle she has on each cheek, as though placed there in perfect symmetry.

"You're kidding."

"No."

"You're kidding," she repeats, as though it shouldn't be - as though if this is the truth, two and two won't add up to four anymore and water will no longer be H2O.

"I'm not," I state clearly, wishing she would just accept it and move on.

"Okay, then. What am I thinking right now?"

"Orange."

Her face is an expression of complete shock and awe before she challenges, "How about now?"

"_Yume de aimashou_. I know enough to tell that it's Japanese, but alas I do not speak it so I wouldn't know what it means."

"So you can't interpret the meaning from my brain, you just hear my thoughts. That's interesting."

Indeed it is. For someone so young to make such a deduction so swiftly... Of course I had already figured this out, but she only just found out that vampires can have special powers and she's already examining mine.

"So wait... you knew what I was thinking this entire time?"

"Well..."

Thankfully, before I have to answer, Jasper and Alice enter the room in all their dainty glory and Alice instantly starts to fawn over the girl again.

"Are you alright now, Joe?" she asks, but I know why she left the room earlier. She had to go and get Jasper to calm the girl down. I'm sure they took their chances in letting me have a go with her first so as not to have harm Jasper himself too much. It's nice when he's around when things are about to get rocky, but in situations like these, where people are already extremely emotional, it's best to let them work it out on their own first. Spares him a lot of pain.

"Yeah, I'm alright now. Thanks."

Her thoughts say differently, but I let it go. It would only spook her if she knew that I could catch the little whispers she can't truly hear, herself.

Neither Jasper nor Alice knows what to say at the moment, so I stand up and brush off my hands on my pants before excusing myself. "I think Carlisle might need some help with our passes. Jasper, you up for hauling some of the girls' stuff downstairs with me, later?"

"Of course," comes the expected reply. Emmett might have brushed me off with a joke of, "Let them do it - it's not like they're going to break a nail on anything," but Jasper is as gentlemanly as they come. I haven't know the duo for extremely long, but I know them very well indeed, and Alice and Jasper are the kind of couple I wish to be a part of when I find my mate.

And suddenly it hits me. Carlisle. He hadn't planned this, had he? I mean, Jordan is a fine, attractive young lady, but no. Just no. I had heard that you're supposed to feel the kind of intimate connection with your partner instantly, and if I feel anything toward this girl it's pity and perhaps a little bit of apprehension. I still do not know what it is that became more... more, when she turned. Carlisle's theory has me hooked, and I do believe that it's very likely that if we were very drawn toward certain emotions or actions in our previous lives, that that would become enhanced in this one. Take Emmett, for instance. He was a bear of a man with a lot of physical strength. Rosalie was exceptionally beautiful and took that with her when her beauty was thus more enhanced. Or take Carlisle, with his compassion and understanding. And I had always been able to tell what people were thinking, even when their lips spoke differently. But what about this girl? Everyone has something. It doesn't have to be the kind of power Jasper, Alice or I have. But if it is, will it become a danger to us all? Or what if it becomes a danger to her, which then becomes a danger to others? There are just too many questions left unanswered about this girl.

Argh! I have to get out of here before I go nuts. Perhaps a little hunt before I check up on Carlisle's progress will be productive.

* * *

I must admit, when hearing the girl's thoughts earlier, I'd thought she was going to sneak out for an hour or so to leave behind a message for her mother. But then, about fourty minutes into my hunt, I heard the loud, aggressive and defensive thoughts of my family back at the house. Racing back as quickly as I could, I was half surprised to find Carlisle, Jasper, Emmett and herself inside the cramped space of her temporary room, instead of the empty room I had been expecting.

Quite the battle had gone on inside. The scratches on the fabric of the small couch and the carpet were telling. Also, Carlisle's perfect hair was askew and Emmett's thoughts were racing the same way they do whenever he gets into a brawl with one of us.

But now, standing here, watching her panting even though she doesn't need the oxygen and hearing the gentle words Carlisle tries to force into her mind as he holds her tightly around the waist so she doesn't run off, I feel like I'm intruding on something private. Even though Jasper and Emmett are right here, as well. I'm sure Carlisle can hold her down, now, since her first wind has been knocked out of her, but Jasper knows more about newborns than I do so I'm sure he would never leave if I suggested it, and Emmett doesn't like taking orders from anyone but Carlisle, Esme or Rosalie.

'What happened?' I mouthed to Jasper, who was standing ram-rod still with his arms folded across his chest.

_Girl asked Carlisle for permission to leave behind a note for her mama. Carlisle said no. Sort of escalated from there._

I wondered how she was feeling and it must have shown on my face, for Jasper added as an after-thought, _Poor girl's broken up about it_. I didn't need any more information than that. This had to be done.

"Carlisle," I said, my voice cutting through the tension like a knife, causing several pairs of eyes to center on my face. "What if we just do it? If one of us does it, we can be efficient about it. No lingering about. Just, you know, in and out. That's it. They'll never know we were there."

The glare Carlisle sends me could crush a boulder. "While I appreciate your concern, Edward, I don't think the risks of being exposed should be placed on your or anyone else's shoulders."

Basically he's telling me he doesn't think we can do it.

"And what if you're the one to do it?" I'm pushing it here, but one look at Jordan's miserable, downcast expression fills me with such a dutiful urge to protect I can't stop myself from saying it.

And yes, the words do the trick. Like magic, Jordan's face lights up with delight and I dare to add, "If any of us stands the most chance of not being seen, it's you."

She twists in Carlisle's grip to look up at him hopefully, clearly begging him to do her this one favor, in return for giving her a condemned life.

But alas, it is not to be borne. "When I said anyone else's shoulders, I meant including my own. Do you kids even understand the burden of keeping this a secret from the outside world? Not only for the humans, but for the vampires as well. What do you think the Volturi have to say about Jordan? We can't risk exposing ourselves at the present time, Edward."

I know what 'at the present time' means with Carlisle. It means that he'll probably allow her to leave behind a message or something like that at a later time in our lives. But Jordan doesn't. She doesn't know Carlisle at all, really. Nor us. Why should she trust or listen to us when all we've done is introduce her to a world of blood-drinking gore with sparkles on the side?

Her figure slumps and it seems as though she is being held up solely by a pair of strings, but she doesn't cry. Instead, she looks at me with an expression that reads 'thanks for caring enough to try'.

Carlisle lets go of her, realizing that she is all out of fight. "Pack up whatever's left to pack," he orders the rest of us standing there, certain that the girls can hear it over in the other room, "we leave in one hour."


	5. Chapter 5: We've got time

First off, I'd like to thank the reviewers for reviewing! And I'd like to answer a question: No, Jasper will forever be Alice's :) But Jasper is going to play an important role in Jordan's life. So is Carlisle. That's why I chose them as the characters who will be in this story.

* * *

Jasper's P.O.V.!

* * *

The Porsche is packed and ready to go and its occupants are quiet and still, even though their emotions are running wild. Alice, seated next to me, petite frame engulfed by the enormous leather car seat, feels a sense of longing and adventure with a tinge of apprehension. My sweet fears for miss Walker, who is currently driving with Carlisle and Esme. Rosalie and Emmett are right behind us, up the Porsche's butt because Emmett takes pleasure in my irritation, and Edward is sitting behind me, trying to listen to music so as to block out everybody's thoughts. I feel strong waves of empathy rolling off him and am certain that he feels for miss Walker.

I can't lie, though. I do, too.

From the first moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she would be the kind of person that would feel things too strongly and over-analyze situations until she understood their depths, even at the cost of her own happiness. Her tendency to overfeel would be the death of me.

But also, she feels a strange sort of awe when she looks at each of us. I've seen it before, in newborns, but usually that awe comes in a form of fear mixed in with mild fascination. Her awe, on the other hand, is a mix of fascination, respect and confusion. But the one that befuddles me the most, is respect. Who on Earth would respect a creature as vile as a vampire?

Another strange thing is that she has no thoughts of rebellion whatsoever. All newborns are supposed to feel the instinctual desire to work on their own and not answer to anyone. But aside from her little outburst miss Walker shows no further signs of acting up. Instead, her feelings are focused more on resignation and bitter acceptance. She feels alone and weak, like a mouse caught in the clutches of a hungry falcon. And no matter how many times I tell myself not to get involved, I dampen the feelings a little every time they get a bit too overwhelming. Just a bit, so that she doesn't know it's me doing it. It could be a very practical advantage to have later on.

* * *

When we finally arrive at the house in the middle of a forest, which for some still inexplicable reason Carlisle and Esme have managed to get their hands on in under a day, (honestly, how do they do that?) Alice instantly hops out of the car and discovers the various nooks and crannies of the house which she has undoubtedly seen in a vision and wants to take in first-hand.

Edward groans as he stretches his muscles before getting out of the car and unloading the multiple suitcases from the trunk. As the others get out of their cars as well, I set out to help Edward, but Carlisle intercepts swiftly and asks me to see to Jordan.

"Is something wrong with her?" I ask.

"Not from what I can tell. But I would like for you to make sure that she feels comfortable with this adaption. She no doubt feels cut off from the only safe place she's ever known."

Carlisle's assumptions are as usual very clear-cut and correct. I can feel the loneliness and instinctual defensiveness building up within her little body and 'accidentally' brush her hand when we both 'accidentally' reach for the same suitcase, taking away the negative feelings and replacing them with calm and quiescence.

She instantly freezes in mid-movement and glances up at me, mouth agape. The question is burning on her tongue, I can feeling it emanating from her, but self-preservation is the winner in her war with curiosity and she turns away from me to continue unloading our belongings.

I suppress the urge to sigh. This change of pace is affecting all of us more than it should. Even Emmett's emotions are mixed up and confused. Rosalie's are mostly centered on pity and so are Esme's. I just hope this change won't ruin everything we've built so far.

* * *

After we've all chosen our rooms (Carlisle and Esme getting the master bedroom, of course, and Rosalie deciding for Emmet as Alice does for me), we start on the task of unpacking as though it's a simple, monotonous routine we've gotten used to over the decades.

Miss Walker has offered to help Alice and I with our things and I politely refused while my wife took her up on that offer and asked that she help her divide her Summer, Winter, Fall and Spring clothes. I know that Alice has already packed her clothes as such that she could simply unpack them in that order, but I also know that my sweet is trying to occupy the young girl since there is little else she can do with her time. Miss Walker has no belongings, now. I'm sure that Carlisle's illimitable money on his credit card will take care of that, but I know that there is something sentimental about old belongings that you can't quite let go of unless they're ripped away from you.

"This is stunning," miss Walker comments, breathless. My sweet chuckles and lifts up the short black and beige dress with a big cut-out heart on the back. She holds it up against miss Walker's petite frame. It would fall a little lower on her, which is fine, since it's supposed to be a mini.

"You can have it," she says.

Miss Walker's eyes grow big. "No, please, I couldn't take this from you," she hastily replies. "I truly thank you for the offer, but I can't."

I smirk. If only she knew how much money Alice spent on clothes. The girl probably believes this to be one of Alice's best. I admit my sweet looks stunning in the dress, but she looks stunning in everything. And she looks even better without.

"No, I insist. I never wear it anymore, anyway." That much is true, but not because she's grown tired of it. It's simply because she buys something new to wear almost every single day.

"Still, it's yours-"

"And now it's yours." Alice can be very hard-headed when she wants something to happen. "I have seen it, and you will look fabulous in it on New Years."

That makes miss Walker smile a small smile before melancholy sets in. You couldn't see it on her face, but her emotions are conflicted. She feels accepted and surrounded by good people on one side, and lonely and reminiscent on the other. I wouldn't be surprised if she's thinking about previous New Years celebrations.

Before any of us have time to finish unpacking, Emmett's rounding us all up for a customary ball game in our new home.

"You haven't seen baseball 'till you've seen my Rose whack a ball."

"Or Emmett falling on his ass at vampire speed," Edward quips.

"Vampire speed?" miss Walker asks, and I can feel her trepidation at having uttered the question out-loud, as though we would scowl at her for not knowing these things yet.

"Yes. We have plenty of enhanced senses," Carlisle explains. "One such enhanced sense could become an ability in some cases. My personal theory is that you take whatever was your most salient feature in your previous life with you into this one as an enhanced gift. Take Emmett, for instance."

She looks up at the burly boy.

"He was very strong as a human, and now he's one of the most powerful vampires I know."

I sure hope Carlisle means relying on pure strength, alone. Because I can name a couple of vampires who could destroy us all with the blink of an eye.

"And Alice, I have come to believe, used to think a lot about the outcome of certain events and would fantasize about the future."

My sweet has an expression on her face that should have gone with flushed cheeks, but since there is no blood running through her veins, they remain pristinely pale.

I can feel a bit of excitement coming from the girl. No doubt she's wondering if there's something she took with her into this life. Then I feel self-recrimination, though for what, I don't know. Her mood-swings are so confusing I feel like putting a stop to them altogether. But I know I can't do that - it just wouldn't be right.

I smother a sigh behind my hand and follow the rest outside, as Carlisle continues his explanation on powers and gifts. Something tells me that the last thing we need right now is for the girl to have a gift.

* * *

Hunger. It is no longer a need, but an emotion. Whenever a newborn experiences its first ravishing hunger, I have to escape its clutches as well.

The feeling starts with a slight gnawing in your tendons, like an itch you can't reach with your nails. And then a dizzying frustration takes over, telling you that you are in need of something you can't find because you're too hungry to even see the plate of food in front of you. And at last, there's blissful release. It's the part where the vampire finally lets go and goes for the kill. I have known and not known myself in these moments, and all I can remember from past experience is that once you're fixated on getting something, there is no way you are going to let it go.

The girl hates herself for her hunger. I can relate to that part of her. She's currently trying to keep her mind off of the craving by chewing on the inside of her lip, almost as though she is expecting blood to spill from the wound. I can relate to that, as well. And in the end, when she realizes it's a losing fight she's in, she lets go of her restraints and dashes off into the woods. I know that two of us have to go with her to make sure it's only animals she encounters and to hold her back in case it isn't, and Carlisle is already at the door when I make my way down the stairs. We make eye-contact and he nods before chasing the girl.

We watch over her carefully as she tears the mountain lion's neck open and drinks greedily. I know she isn't satisfied yet and that she should be about to make another mad dash for anything that smells of blood, but she then does something entirely unexpected. She gazes down at the creature and pulls at her hair, crying miserably into the cold night air. I can feel her devastation and try to smother the feeling but it's too powerful to do much about.

Carlisle is behind her immediately, pulling her back against his chest and rocking her gently, trying to tell her that everything's okay. It does little for her sorrow, but anything is better than nothing at this point. I set myself to the task of getting rid of the carcass as miss Walker calms down. When I'm done, we walk back to the house slowly. We have an indefinite amount of time, anyway. Might as well do it at our leisure.


	6. Chapter 6: I need a moment

Jordan's P.O.V.

I feel tired.

Seriously, if anyone were to ask me right now what I want to do for the rest of eternity long, it would be to sleep. People weren't made to live beyond their time. I wasn't supposed to outlive myself. And this is the way I have come to realize it - through utter fatigue. It seems almost like a curse, this inability to sleep. Resting does nothing for my soul, and my muscles don't tire the way they used to.

I wonder how they put up with it for decades on end. How do they cut loose from their mundane existence? By going on shopping sprees all the time? By doing '_it'_ whenever they get a little bored? By focusing on personal projects to keep from losing their minds?

I get up off the bed. Most of the Cullens have gone out to buy sheets and glasses and stuff like that but I was to stay home in case something happened. Not to the house, or anything. In case something happened to _me_. You know, in case my hunger would take over. Esme had offered to stay home with me, but since Carlisle knew she was desperate to take on the decoration of their new home, he'd stayed behind instead. Secretly I'm happy he's done so, since I don't think I could stand to stay in the same house with Esme if it were just the two of us.

To get my mind off the image of her kind, heart-shaped face with warm eyes and an equally warm smile, I walk over to the mirror on the wall in _my_ bathroom - these people have it fucking made- and dare myself to look at my reflection. It takes me three tries not to look away immediately and when I finally really _look_ at myself, I am surprised by how little I have changed. My usually blue-green eyes have turned honey-gold and my skin is a bit paler than it used to be, but aside from that that not much else has changed. The imperfections on my skin are gone, yes, but I still have the same two beauty marks on each cheek in the exact same place, and my hair, though a bit richer in colour, has the same straight, tepid appearance.

I dare myself to take it a step further and remove my top. Same cup-size. Same freckle on my collarbone. I turn to the side. Nope. Still the same person. There is one thing I'm grateful for - my disease has made it hard for me to eat easily, so I lost a lot of weight over the months. I suppose it would suck if I had been in the middle of a bingeing period and my body had frozen in that state forever. But now, instead of seeing the tanned skin I'm used to, my eyes are met with nothing-white flesh that looks ready to split at any second.

If anything, in all honesty, I think I look worse than I used to. I miss the colour of my eyes. I miss the redness of my cheeks. I miss the chapped condition of my lips.

I miss the warmth I used to emit.

Sorrow and frustration take over and I find myself wishing I looked like someone else. Maybe that really pretty girl from my school. The one with the sandy-blonde waves and deep red lips and bright blue eyes that spoke of dreams and future goals and aspirations. I'd always admired her for getting good grades and being good-looking and social at the same time.

I sigh and give myself a last once-over in the mirror.

I shriek.

If my heart had a beat it would have stopped. If the shock could have jump-started my heartbeat, I'm sure it would have. And if you had been here instead of me, you would have done the exact same thing.

Carlisle enters the room in a flash and I turn and yell, "What happened to me?!"

"Jordan?" he asks.

"Yes!" Oh God. Oh no. He obviously doesn't know what's going on. Oh no oh no oh no oh fucking fuck what is this?!

"You look a little... different."

"I know! I'm _her_!" The girl from my school, the one I was thinking about.

"Okay, well, calm down and we'll figure this out, alright?"

"How can we figure this out?! Is this normal?!"

"I don't know, Jordan, I've never seen a vampire transform befo-" he cuts himself off then and realization sparks in his eyes.

"What?" I prompt, sure that he knows something.

"Unless this is your gift."

"My what?" I ask, though I know what he means. I just want to hear him say it again, just want to make sure this is normal.

"Perhaps this is your power. Shape-shifting. Do you remember my theory?"

"Yes, I... it makes sense now!"

He quirks one eyebrow in a questioning manner and I am compelled to explain, "I used to fantasize about being a different person. I used to think about being someone else, someone without my disease. I used to think about going to prom and getting married and..." Suddenly it hits me. I will never get married. I will never have children. I will never grow up.

I have faced this 'conundrum' once already, and it has already torn my heart in two. But now, being faced with it again... I had always known that I would die before I got married. I had always known that having children wasn't in the cards for me. But I had had a firm belief that whatever came next would be gentle with me. That I would have a better life when this one was over. But now I am stuck in this shell of a body that can not grow older. That can not bear children. I am at the prime of my youth and yet I can do nothing with it.

"I... I need a moment."

"Jordan?"

"Just need some air."

I open the window and climb out onto the roof. I have no idea how I know that I'm capable of doing so - God knows I've never tried such a stunt in my life, yet something tells me I can pull it off. Evidently, as I sit ontop of the house, I feel much better. I can breathe the cool air and feel it passing through my lungs. I do not know if I need it. I do not know if my body can process the oxygen. I do know that no blood will be delivering it to the useless organs that it contains. But I also know that it feels nice.

And as long as it feels nice, that's good enough for me.

Something zooms by my line of sight and suddenly Carlisle is sitting perched beside me, extending his hand to touch my shoulder lightly, uncertain of my response.

"I just needed a moment," I say.

"It's normal to feel confused. I just want you to know that if you have any questions for me, any at all, I'll try my best to answer them."

I look up at him, uncertain still about this man. How am I supposed to ask him about these things when I don't even know for sure what his part is in this... pack?

"Who are you?" I ask.

He looks shocked. "Jordan, is it possible that you have lost your sense of self when you shape-shifted?"

"I mean, who were you?" The words feel funny on my tongue. "Who did you use to be?"

"Well, I used to be the son of a pastor. I was born in 1640 in London, England. I was changed at the age of 23 and am a physician."

"And why did you change me?"

"I told you,-"

"No. Why _me_? There are thousands of people starving and dying daily. Why did you turn me instead of them?"

"Well, I don't work where the people starve and die daily. And I realize that I can not simply turn every person I come by that is struggling. But you were different. I saw you fighting your disease in the rehabilitation center every day. I saw how deeply you cared for your family and friends. I saw your compassion and potential. I couldn't let that go to waste."

Despite the fact that he has just told me that he thought me too good a person to let me die, I can't let him delude me of these things. For he was wrong. I was not as compassionate as he thought, and I did not have that much going for me to start with.

"Will I be sixteen forever?" I ask softly. I had not meant to say it, but somehow the words tumbled from my mouth, anyway.

He looks at me sadly for a moment before conceding, "Yes."

It feels terrible and magnificent at the same time to hear those words. Terrible because I will never be a woman. Magnificent because I can finally quit fooling myself into thinking I may have a future. And something in-between because no matter how old I am, at least I'll have forever.

"Will I stay like this forever?"

"Yes."

I look away and stare out into nothingness.

"And, if you'll have us, you will stay with us forever."

I turn to look at Carlisle. I want to say, 'Why wouldn't I have you? You guys are amazing.' but in all honesty, I just want my family back. I want to return to the arms of my loving mother and my funny brother who I know to be loving and caring despite the fact that he tries to cover it up with his occasional snarls and insults.

"Thank you. For accepting me so easily." But I know they don't. I know that he might care about me because of everything I've been through and because he's unnaturally compassionate, but the rest? They don't even know me. Why would they care? How could they accept somebody into their family whom they don't even know?

"Of course," Carlisle replies, "you are one of us, now."

And though the words don't fool me, I know that to Carlisle, I am one of them, and that is enough for now.


	7. Chapter 7: Someone's 'bout to hurl

**Emmett's P.O.V.!**

* * *

"Don't. Leave it. Emmett, leave it."

"Shut up, Edward."

"He can protect himself."

But he can't. The human is being driven into a corner and threatened by a bunch of bullies and there's nothing I can do about it because we're in a new school and we're not supposed to attract attention to ourselves.

"Emmett, babe, come on." My Rose intertwines her fingers with mine and pulls me along. If it weren't for her, I surely would have beaten the crap out of these punks who think they can get away with terrorizing some innocent kid. But then Carlisle would probably bust my ass for doing something so 'irresponsible'.

That kind of gets me thinking - how will the new girl respond to Carlisle's punishments? She definitely looks like someone who has been spared the rod, as they say. Though, then again, she also looks like someone who isn't in need of correction. But on the other hand, no one had thought Alice to be in need of a 'firm hand' until she'd shot that theory down herself. Even my Rose, who is a powerful individual in her own right, has earned herself a trip or two across Carlisle's knees before.

I wonder how long it will take for Jordan to make some mistake and realize that she's still a part of our family no matter what happens. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like she's some incredible little wonderchild or anything. It's just that she can be great fun when you're alone with her. Just the other day I'd invited her to play Forza 4 with me and after she got the hang of the game and started to chill out a bit, she turned out to be a pretty funny kid. And that time we played baseball together, she helped me clean up when the game was done and was very kind and gentle about everything. She was no doubt intimated by me, but she didn't seem to fear me simply because of my size. Mostly, she just seemed eager to please and be in our good graces.

"What'ya gonna' do, ya stupid piece of shit?! Run to the principal? Become the laughing stock of the entire school?!"

"Yes."

Now that is the first time I've ever heard a bullied kid admit that he would tell on his tormentors.

"I already am the laughing stock of the school thanks to you morons."

One of the bullies kicks him violently again. I can't tell where, but my vampire hearing allows me to hear the sickening impact against bone.

"AGH!" And coughing follows, after which, "You think you're high and mighty just because you beat someone weaker than you. Just wait some more years, Hemmings, and we'll see who's working for who in the future."

It is a clever response, but not quite so considering the position he was in.

"HA! As if, Jameson!" And for the lack of a better response, Hemmings adds a couple more rough kicks.

I am annoyed with my lack of power - I can't even help the kid. I can't even do something like Jasper could do, to defuse the situation a little. All I can do is bash their heads together, and that isn't desirable in our current position. So, instead, I decide to remember these punks' names and set things right after school.

Justice should be served to those who have the hearts of sadistic motherfucking assholes.

* * *

Apparently, justice should also be served to those who decide to go bashing kids' skulls together. I admit it is ironic that I should have contemplated how long it would take before Carlisle drew Jordan over his knee and that this same day I have found myself draped across it myself. I, as is the norm, had started out strong-willed and completely determined that I would not cry out or plead or show any sign of weakness. That frame of mind had been wrecked the moment he started swatting the sensitive undercurve of my behind and had me yawping. Walt Whitman would have been proud.

I still stand with the idea that the idiots got what they deserved and was coming to them, but I admit it was foolish of me to go off and deal with them myself. Especially considering the fact that we were supposed to blend in and not cause any scenes. And though I had taken care of them after school hours, Carlisle was right in his observation that the dickheads may very well recognize me at school and decide to speak up about what had happened instead of being smart and shutting the hell up.

I wish I could, right now. For some reason, when Carlisle gets into the whole 'and this is why you were wrong' and 'you won't ever do such a foolish thing again, will you, son?' part of the spanking, it always makes everything seem so much worse. And that always makes me cry harder. But when he wraps it up, he never fails to shower me with affection and hold me to let me know all is well and he has forgiven me. At first, I had always tried to shrug off his caresses and sweet murmurs in an indifferent manner, but after failing to get him to stop pulling me to him time and again I now accepted his cradling and affection without second thought. I actually started to expect it, and felt unworthy and neglected when it took him to long to gather me up into his arms.

I know I'm technically a full-grown man and all, but there's something comforting about being way younger than the person who's holding you. I'm always gonna' be Emmett, you know? I'm always gonna' be my loud, awesome and cheerful self, and even though the others are always going to be virtually the same, they mature more rapidly than I do.

And suddenly I realize that I'm not the youngest, anymore. Jordan is, now. She's always going to be the youngest from now on. Well, perhaps until Carlisle comes across some other victim of the human fate. For now, though, I think we have enough going on.

Carlisle runs his hand through my hair and leaves it on my head, saying, "Is that clear, Em?"

"Yessir. I promise. I won't do it again."

"Make sure of that, bear."

_Bear_. It's a name Esme had bestowed upon me with love; 'my big bear'. Carlisle had overheard and deemed it worthy for him to use, as well. And though I have a fondness for being compared to powerful creatures, I do not enjoy being named after the thing that mauled me. I would never say so, though, for as strong and pliable as Esme is, she would be heartbroken if she found out that I dislike her nickname for me with a passion.  
Rose's nickname is little better, though. 'Monkey man'. I mean, sheesh, well thanks for calling me a neanderthal.

"And don't bother your brother about trying to restrain you, either. You know he was only looking out for you."

"Yeah yeah."

"I mean it, Em. Edward has enough going on without your badgering."

Of course. I get it. Golden Boy is the oh-so-wise leader of the younger vamps. It goes to show how little faith Carlisle has in me if he can't see that sure, I sometimes instigate an argument, but often times it's actually Edward who does something unnecessarily flashy or over-the-top to deliberately get me to react. He knows how to pull my strings and get me into bad situations. Now, don't get me wrong, it's not like I hate my brother or anything. He can actually be great fun when he wants to be. It's just that he doesn't want to be great fun very often. At least, not in the sense that I mean.

"Got it."

He gives me a warm and reassuring smile before letting me out of his office, not without that last swat to the butt to let me know what further mischief will get me into.

I head downstairs, where the females are all crowded together in the kitchen for some reason. It baffles me to think that they would actually be there all together unless they're plotting something, and being someone who doesn't enjoy being left out of these things, I immediately make my way over there to see what's going on.

"What the?!"

There's a girl at our kitchen table, eating _food_ food. I have no idea who this girl is and no recollection of any of my brothers or sisters making new friends. And that's when I remember that Jordan shape-shifts. But that can't be her. She must know that we can't eat actual human food, right? And even if she didn't, someone would be stopping her. So it can't be Jordan. But the girl doesn't smell human. I walk up to the group, intent on making my worries known, when suddenly Alice pipes up,

"Oh, Em, don't worry, it's just Jordan."

"But... why is she-"

"To see if shape-shifting comes with any more benefits. When she's in a human body, she might be able to keep down human food. Makes sense, right?"

"Sure."

'Jordan' suddenly stands up, heading for the exit as quickly as she can.

"Someone's 'bout to hurl," I laugh.

And certainly, the distinct sound of vomiting reaches my ears only three seconds later. Another ten seconds later, the girl is back downstairs, clean and freshened up. And in her own body. Goes to show how quickly you get used to vampire speed.

"It's no use," she sighs dejectedly.

I put a hand on her head and ruffle her hair. "Ah, don't worry 'bout it, shortie. I'm sure there are other, real cool things that come with this shape-shifting shit."

She doesn't seem the least bit cheered up. "You don't get it. I don't want to drink blood."

"Well, it's not really a matter of wanting."

"So it seems."

Curse that sad look on her face! I can't help but try and cheer the kid up.

"Wanna' play halo?" Okay and maybe I need some cheering up, as well.

She looks like she's about to refuse, simply to pity herself for a while, but then her face clears up and she answers, "Sure! I enjoy beating your ass."

"As if!" I joke back, inwardly eternally grateful that she doesn't know what just transpired in Carlisle's office and that my ass has already been sufficiently beated.

Maybe it's better if she doesn't cross that line into Carlisle's dreaded office just yet. You know, to preserve her youth and all that.

And my pride.


	8. Chapter 8: You guys still go to school?

Rosalie's P.O.V. !

* * *

"Does this look okay?"

That's all it took. Seriously - that was all it took for her to wrap me around her finger. Alice never asks me if her outfit is alright the way Jordan just did. She just assumes that she knows better or that we simply have different tastes. Whenever she does ask me if she looks alright, it's because she's worried that there might be a stain on her clothing in a spot that she hasn't seen, or perhaps one of her straps is too loose or too tight.

Yet Jordan stands here in front of me, really just wearing tights with shorts over them and a simple T-shirt with a long woollen cream sweater on top, asking me if her outfit is okay. It's one of the most endearing things I've witnessed in my vampire life. Mostly because it's her first day of school in a new place and in a new life, and because she isn't so sure of what's acceptable and what isn't to us. Perhaps she thinks I'll scowl at her and tell her to put on something more 'decent' like black trousers and a shirt. Forks high school is not that kind of school, though.

I feel sort of bad though, standing here, looking at the few articles of clothing she's gotten her hands on without feeling too guilty. The T-shirt used to be mine and the sweater used to be Alice's, and I can tell by the way she self-consciously rubs the leather strap of her bag that she feels uncertain beneath my scrutinizing gaze as though to play with the hem of her T-shirt would be so terrible simply because it used to be mine. I mean, it's just an old and worn T-shirt, but she seems to think that it's something holy or whatever.

"Yeah. Looks fine."

She smiles like she's just overcome some massive hurdle or something and it turns something cold and sharp in the pit of my stomach to warm jelly.

"Okay phew, 'cause I wasn't sure what I could wear and not and you know since I'm new and all..." Poor thing's blabbing 'cause she's so insecure. Her greatest problem is really withstanding her urge to tear everyone's throats open, but since Carlisle thinks it's okay to do like a sort of test-run to see if she can manage an entire day without having to use her permission slip to leave the school because of her 'sick aunt', I think it's alright to give her the benefit of the doubt. I mean, she only begged for Carlisle's permission to go to school about five hundred times.

I can still remember the dejected look on her face when Carlisle told her that it was too dangerous. She still hasn't come to full terms with what she is, now, and what sort of power she actually has over these humans. She just wants to fit in and be normal. And I know all too well what that feels like.

"Don't worry. Forks high school isn't one of those braces and laces kind of places." Ugh I feel like a teenager, saying that.

"Oh, okay, cool." She looks like she has more to say, but doubts that engaging in conversation with me is wise. I admit that most of the talking around the house is done by Alice and Emmett. Usually Esme, too, but Jordan and Esme just don't seem to rub the right way. I can't say why. It does make me feel more motherly toward her. Even though I'm physically only two years older than her, mentally I have been... entertaining the idea of cherishing a child for years upon years now.

"Here. It would look better with this," I state, placing a woollen hat on her head. It does complete the look, if I do say so myself. And it felt right to me, too. Interacting with this girl is like interacting with your favourite little sister who looks up to you and would ask you to braid her hair and tell you all about the special 'grown up' things you do when she's not around.

Emmett suddenly enters the room and strides over to me immediately, lifting me up into his arms bridal style and announcing, "Your chariot awaits, m'am." Jordan giggles and for an agonizingly painful moment I imagine what it would be like if she were ours. Emmett would be such an excellent father...

"You guys still go to school?" she asks, suddenly shocked and confused.

"Well of course. We have to keep up the façade that we're teenagers. You will have to keep going to high school until the end of time as well. Sometimes we're able to pull off being college degree material but most of the time we just go to high school and try our best to lay low."

"That's horrid."

"Yup. But it's how it is, so we just have to deal with it. But if you speak with Carlisle about it and you really really don't want to go, he doesn't make you and he just tells anyone that asks that you're being home-schooled."

"Still," Jordan protests, "I wouldn't want to go to high school over and over again. That sucks."

"It depends on how long we stay in one place, too, though. We always try and start off in as low a grade as possible so we can stay in one place longer. Then we do the first couple of years of college with our peers."

"Wait a second."

Of course she caught track of my train of thought. She's such a clever girl.

"You plan on turning into someone else. If you just catch glimpses of her day to day you might be able to pull off ageing along with her," I deduct.

"Yes!"

"The only problem is, it'll be very hard finding someone to be a look-alike of without them noticing."

"Well, not per sé. I could like find some old photo album and make myself look like someone that's old or gone by now. It could work. Right?"

Emmett intervenes before I can reply, "I suppose it would, but it's best that you just stay you for now. You shouldn't use your powers non-stop yet until you know how long you can keep them up for. Who knows it doesn't work any longer than an hour or so and then you might suddenly shift back during school."

I snort. "That would be a sight."

"Yeah it would. Now come on, let's go gals."

* * *

"Is she a new Cullen? Has Dr. Cullen decided to adopt another kid?"

"Can't be. She's just as pale as the rest of them."

"I don't get it. This is so weird. What if they're like part of some mad religious cult?"

"Why? 'Cause they're pale?"

"No you retard - because some special doctor decides to make them a part of his family."

"Okay seriously, you've been smoking too much Liz. There is no way-"

I try my best to block out the annoying chatter. I can't begin to imagine how tough it must be on Edward if he can _hear_ the thoughts, too. Though I'd be damned if he knew I sympathised with him for it.

We've been here for over a year now and because of that, these people know a lot about us, already. Alice, Jasper, Edward, Emmett and I have all been going to school since we got here, but Jordan hasn't because she still had to find a way to curb her bloodlust.

As for her background story; we play it off like she's Esme's niece. Esme's fake sister died in a fake accident and since Esme was the fake godparent, she adopted Jordan. Simple as that. Now the hard part is spreading the word.

It's cute to watch Jordan take a deep breath and push all her nerves to the background as she makes her way up to the front desk confidently. "Hello, I'm new here. I was told to come to the front desk and collect a sheet with my timetable so I can see which class I have first."

"Yes of course, dear. Would you tell me your name, please?"

"Jordan W-Cullen."

Drat. And we'd practiced that the entire drive here, too.

"Alright, here you go miss Cullen."

"Thanks."

"Can you find your way around here okay?"

"Uh yeah I'm sure I'll find it." She glances hesitantly back toward us and I smile and wave in a placating manner.

"Yup I'll find it," she confirms and bids the woman farewell before heading back over to me.

"So what's your first class?"

"Spanish."

"Alright, follow me."

"Babe, I've gotta' go head over to Bio, I was supposed to team up with someone and I'll be damned if I have to do all the work on my own for arriving late," Emmett states, leaning over to steal a quick kiss before zooming through the now-deserted hallway.

Jordan looks up at me with a slightly insecure look on her face. "You-when-I mean..." she starts, and I take pity on her incapability to simply state how she feels.

"Spit it out, Jordan."

She clears her throat and looks away, asking, "When do you have a free period?"

"We all have lunch at the same time. We usually eat together so don't worry about anything happening. We've already found a way to beat the system."

She looks relieved. "So you always hang out together?"

"Sort of. Usually we just hang out with our partners. And Edward goes off on his own a lot, too."

"Oh. Should I steer clear of him, then? I don't want to bother him when he's busy or anything."

"Jeez, Jordan, don't be such a Mary Sue. If it bothers him, then too bad. Besides, he's a stuck-up pansy, anyway. It'll snow in August before he grows some hair on his balls. No, you should just make some cool new friends here and forget about him."

"You don't seem to like him very much." Well at least she has a brain in her head. "Has he ever done anything to make you dislike him?"

"It's not that he ever did just 'the one' thing. It's just him and his annoying attitude, like he's the king of the world."

"I never got that impression of him. But I guess that's just because he doesn't like me very much. He doesn't share his thoughts with me."

"It's better that way, anyway, kid. If there's one piece of advice I could give you, it's that you stay away from people who think they're better than you, because after a while, they're going to believe that they own you."

"Own me?"

"Yes. And you don't want to find out what happens when people think they own you. It's better not to rely on anybody. Stand alone and stand your ground. And if some cute guy walks by and you feel like it, then go ahead and start something. But never let him feel like he's in control of everything you say and do. YOU'RE in control of your own actions - not him."

"Well it's good that you found Emmett, then, 'cause he doesn't seem like the type of guy who would do that."

"No, he isn't. But I did have to warn him a couple of times not to manage me. I return the favour, too, and I think he appreciates it."

"Rosalie?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

I sigh and ignore the 'you just did' trying to push its way through my lips and nod.

"Why don't you like it when people try to manage you?"

"It's a long story, kid." It always is.

Amazingly, she seems okay with the reply. As though she realizes that it's not her business at all.

"Here's your class," I announce, pointing at the door to my right.

She takes a deep breath and steels herself against the curious looks that are sure to follow her every move in a few seconds and flashes me a quick smile and a "Thanks" before knocking twice and entering.

"Ah, you must be the new student, miss Cullen."

"Yes sir."

"Come in, come in, there's a seat over there for you. We were just reviewing the basics from last year. Why don't you introduce yourself in Spanish with these words over here on the blackboard?"

The poor girl looks terrified but I have to hand it to her, she does know her stuff. Without breaking stride she puts her stuff down at her desk and walks over to the front of the class, saying, "Hola, me llamo Jordan. Soy un estudiante y tengo dieciséis años. Vivo aquí en Forks y espero poder llevarse bien con ustedes."

"Good job," the most hard-assed teacher I've ever known compliments her and I know that she nailed it.

Jordan smiles shyly and returns to her seat. A boy seated not too far away from her is staring at her and she catches his eye before looking quickly away. The boy simply grins though, and turns his attention back to the blackboard.

I smile, myself. Oh yes. This is going to be quite a fun year.

* * *

OK, just needed a little filler to get the story going and to cement the growing bond between Rosalie and Jordan :)  
Hope you guys haven't lost interest! :D


	9. Chapter 9: No, This is wrong

Okay, corporal punishment time! For those of you who get squirmy when reading this stuff (hey, it's okay, I was totally against this too until I read some smushy little cute hurt/comfort fic that melted away all of my doubts) then click away and hopefully click back some day xD

Now, I tried to make it seem as realistic as possible, so please don't take the punishment the wrong way and be like 'Wah! Way too rough!' because we must remember, Jordan is a newborn vamp so she's got even tougher skin than the rest of the family. Now! On with the story!

* * *

Jordan's .!

* * *

Five months.

It's been five months since I last saw my family.

It's been five months since I united with this vampire coven.

It's been five months since I last saw my home.

It's been five months since I first entered the coven's house.

And it's been five months since I last saw the sun without feeling its burn sparking up glinting diamonds on my skin. I haven't been able to taste the sweetness of a cherry without regurgitating and I haven't been able to cry colourless, salt-containing tears since four months ago.

The only thing I can do now, is turn into whomever I like.

And I have decided to take full advantage of that.

* * *

There's a great many things I tolerate, but undue punishment isn't one of them. It's not because I live with these vampires that they have become my family, and so I do not need Esme or Carlisle to come to my school to take care of those unsigned tests and report card.

And so, it isn't hard to transform into Carlisle and ignore Edward's odd look as I pass him in the hallway. I knock twice on the principal's office door and enter when he permits it. It is even easier to persuade the principal to drop all charges and let 'my daughter' get off with a warning. I let him know that oh yes, I will deal with it when we get home and no, no, you needn't worry about me going to easy on her for keeping her grades a secret from me.

In fact, the only hard part was not fainting when Edward walked up to me and said, "Message from Carlisle: meet me in the parking lot. In your normal form."

* * *

Carlisle has a more than scary countenance when I walk up to him on the parking lot and try to hide from him behind a curtain of hair. He simply taps me under the chin and folds his arms again when he has my undivided attention.

"We have much to discuss, young lady. But not here. Get in."

I do as Carlisle asks of me. And even though nothing could harm me anymore in my current state, I buckle my seatbelt out of automatism and the desire to execute everything the way he likes it.

Carlisle doesn't say anything on the drive home and it's making me feel so uneasy that I actually try to initiate a conversation by saying, "I don't know why you're so upset with me over this," but instead of answering me, the doctor takes his eyes of the road for a moment to pierce me with a fierce look that speaks of disbelief mixed with rage and also a tiny bit of sorrow before fixing his attention back onto the road as he sighs deeply.

I suppose I'll simply have to be patient and enjoy the calm before the storm.

* * *

"Carlisle? I thought you went to Jordan's school to fix some sort of misunderstanding. Not to retrieve her." Esme's voice is light and humorous as she greets us at the front door, but Carlisle's to-the-point demeanor has her full smiling lips press into a tight line within seconds.

"I must speak with Jordan upstairs. Darling, if you'd be so kind?"

Esme nods and leaves the house without another word, though she gives Carlisle and I a last look of support before she closes the door behind her. The act confuses me, and I turn to look up at the doctor questioningly.

"Is this it, then?" I ask.

"Is this what?" he returns.

"Is this the part where you kick me out for using my gift in public?"

"Pardon me?"

"It's alright, Carlisle. I get it. I shouldn't have - the chances of being seen, though minimal, are still there. I shouldn't have done so and I regret it, but I suppose the rules are the rules and they are binding. Just, let me give Rosalie and Alice their stuff back before I go, please."

"Jordan," he stresses the name, grabbing my shoulders in a strong grip, "you've got it all wrong. I've never explicitly forbidden you from using your gift in public, though I have cautioned you against using it too openly. But that is no reason to kick you out, my dear girl. You're one of us, now. You can't think I would abandon you for making a little mistake?"

"I... th-thank you."

He smiles and pulls me into a hug. "But," he says, diminishing the feeling of calm and security that had been pooling in my chest, "there is the matter of your disobedience regarding school matters."

"Huh?"

He pulls back and looks at me with a strictness I have only witnessed once when he was speaking to Emmett about some rule that boiled down to not throwing, kicking, or basically just connecting with, a ball, at an accelerated speed. Emmett had, in turn, immediately ducked his head and uttered a heartfelt apology without further joking or wittiness and I had been utterly confused by the action.

Now that I am standing in Emmett's huge shoes, though, I can't help but swallow unnecessarily and turn my gaze down to the hardwood floorboards.

But he tips my face up again by the chin and says, very clearly, "You kept something important from me, young lady."

I give him a questioning look and he allows a very small smile to creep onto his handsome face for just a moment before explaining, "The school phoned us. You picked up and told them your father would take care of things. But you hadn't made an official appointment, yet. They phoned us again and were astonished that you hadn't told me about their request. It was humiliating, to say the least.

But it's not just about us, Jordan. You should know well enough that it's Esme's and my place to take care of school matters for you."

"But I'm nearly of age!" I protest.

Carlisle merely chuckles airily, though. "It has nothing to do with being of age, my dear; we still take care of Edward's school business, and he's the second to oldest one here."

"But.. I was able to take care of it."

"Of course you were, Jordan, you're not stupid. We all know you're quite capable of handling as simple an issue as this one. But this is, yet again, not the reason why you shouldn't do it. The first reason is that you have to appear, for all the world, normal. You're supposed to be a normal sixteen-year-old student who needs her parents to come to school to take care of any problems. And the second reason is that we have no idea what could go wrong when you use your gift. We still don't understand completely what the consequences are of using your powers. And until we do, you shouldn't use them out in the open."

"Yes, Carlisle. I understand. And I'm really, really sorry."

"I'm afraid sorry isn't going to be enough, little one."

While the name does bring jitters down the base of my neck and a warm ball of goo into my stomach, the way Carlisle beckons for me to follow him upstairs is enough to send icicles down my spine and pins and needles into the soles of my feet.

But the last thing I can do is disobey him, so I follow him into his office and stare at him apprehensively as he sits down on the couch off to the side against the glass wall. As he sits there watching me for a while as though contemplating what to do with me, I think about how easy it would be for a sniper to shoot a bullet right to the back of his head. Though it wouldn't do anything to really hurt him, of course.

"Come here, Jordan," he says at last, and I do so. I stand directly in front of him, waiting for him to tell me that I can't go outside for a month, or that I am not to draw or write anything for a week, or listen music, or that I have to hand in an essay on how important it is to obey your clan leader.

But the words that come out of his mouth are so unexpected that I could not repeat the way I jolt a few steps backwards with a look of baffled confusion on my face.

"Excuse me?" I ask, utterly and completely mortified.

"You heard me."

I am still gaping at him like a fish and blinking profusely as though waiting for him to turn into the devil.

He sighs. "I'm sorry, Jordan, but this is the way we do things around here."

"You're - you're going to sp-sp-..."

"Yes, Jordan, I am going to spank you."

I smile nervously. "No, you're not."

He raises a curious eyebrow at me, looking for all the world a stern military commander. "I can assure you, my dear, that I am."

"No." I back up a couple more steps. "No, you're not serious. You can't be serious. This is ridiculous! There is no way you could do that to me for what I did! I just went to take care of school matters for myself, like anyone else my age would do!"

"Actually, Jordan, you know well enough that no one your age does this, for if they did, you wouldn't have to change your appearance to look like me. And I can promise you now that though you wish to drag this out, it won't change a thing. I don't care if the entire family's inside this house, you will find yourself over my knee in the end."

When did my sweet, angelic savior turn into this stern disciplinarian?

"Oh, you don't care, do you?!" I dare to reply, "You don't care that you're being demeaning and belittling towards me?!"

He stands up and tries to get closer to me, but I back up two steps with every step he takes.

"It was never my intention to be demeaning, dear."

"Don't call me that!" I snip.

He sighs. "Fine. Jordan, you must accept that this is the way we do things around here."

"So what are my options? Adapt or leave?"

He looks taken aback for a second, but after staring at the wall with a far-off, blank look on his face for a while, he gives me a serious look and says, very softly, "I suppose one could see it that way."

"What do you gain from this?" I reply instantly, so as to keep the smarting sensation from creeping into my chest.

"Nothing, little one. I don't do this for myself out of anger or rage - surely you must see that. I'm doing this for you."

"_For_ _me_?!" I reiterate incredulously.

"Yes, for you. Now, come here." He walks up to me suddenly, and I am taken by surprise for I had thought to keep him talking for a little while longer so I could have a chance at worming myself out of this situation. I had known from the start that I would do anything to stay with this cult, but I had not expected severe humilitation to be one of the items on the to-do list before they would consider me one of them.

"No, please, don't do this."

He grabs my arm without hesitation and drags me back over to the couch.

"Why can't you respect my feelings?" I ask, and the dreadful feeling carried by the words themselves seems to hit Carlisle full on. I see this as my opening. "I don't approve of this method of punishment. Why can't you respect that?"

He sighs once more and answers, "What would you have me do, Jordan?"

"If you want to take me in hand, then here," I turn around and take off my top, pointing over my shoulder at my back. "This is where you hit me."

His voice trembles with horror when he immediately rejects my suggestion, "No, Jordan. I could never."

I put my top back on and tap my cheek twice. "Then here."

He stands up and reaches out toward me and I shut my eyes quickly, trying my hardest not to flinch as I wait for the heavy hand to come down. But his touch is feather-light as he strokes my cheek gently. "Don't be ridiculous," he replies.

"Well then why can you do it _there_?!"

"Because, Jordan, there'll be no lasting damage if I smack you on your backside."

"No. I'm sorry, Carlisle, but I won't have it."

"Why not?"

"Because it's humiliating."

"Bad excuse. A little humiliation adds to the sting of chastisement."

"It's not just a _little_ humiliation, though!"

"Give me another reason."

Ugh. Fine. Don't recognize my arguments. "I'm sixteen."

"Perfect. You're still underage."

"This is ridiculous."

"You must do better than that if you wish to escape this."

"Well then how about because you're being a perv!"

He actually chuckles at my outburst. "Am I, now?"

"Yes! No one should touch me there except my lover."

He shoots me a disgruntled look. "Where do you think I am planning to spank you, dear?"

For the lack of a better reply, I hiss, "I told you not to call me that."

"Whatever you wish, Jordan. Now." He grips my wrist tightly and settles himself on the couch before pulling me swiftly over his lap. The moment I try to lift myself back up again he has my legs pinned between his and a strong arm curled around my waist, pulling my resisting body against his torso.

"NO!" I scream instantly, unfamiliar with this concept of lying face-down across someone's knees. I feel vulnerable and trapped and scared and like hyperventilation is on the verge of taking over. I scramble for purchase on the couch and one of his pant legs, but I am still unbalanced and something tells me that I'm going to hit my head right on the parquet floorboards if I don't keep my head tilted upwards.

"Put your hands on the floor, Jordan," Carlisle advises me, and I try to do as he wishes without panicking too much like some overstressed chicken.

"Sshh... calm down." Ah, plan failed. "You're acting like you've never been spanked before."

I jerk a little and turn my head the other way quickly so he can't read my expression, but it appears the act itself spoke louder than words when he replies, "Don't tell me... you've never-?"

"For your information, my parents never had to resolve to this childish method."

"Not once?!"

"Well... when I was really, really young, my mother would swat me lightly on the butt, but that was all. I was a very well-behaved child, Carlisle. When I broke something in my grandmother's house once when I was really young, I put myself in time-out and sat there crying until she came home and asked me what was wrong." So please, please call this off.

"You're not going to tell me you've never acted like a brat in your entire life."

I gaze down at the floor. "My father had other methods of disciplining me." I can hear him draw an unnecessary breath to reply, and I hasten to add, "And they worked well enough to keep me in line," with a note of finality in my tone of voice.

"Well, this is the way we do things here."

"Yes, I heard you the first five times."

The snide remark earns me a swift smack to my buttock and I cringe, shocked by the sharp contact. Before I can stop him, he's pulled my leggings down while asking, "Why are you receiving this spanking, Jordan?"

"Are you insane?!" I shriek. "You sick pervert, pull them back up, NOW!"

"Goodness me, Jordan, you're acting like I've never seen fabric before."

_Well I'm wearing my dark red undies with white lace patterns on the sides, so yeah, I'd rather you didn't see them, damn it._

"Just, respect my feelings at least that much that you could do me this favor!"

"I already am doing you a favor by not listening to you on this. If it were up to me, Jordan, the underwear would go, too. But since I make it a rule not to do it on the bare the first time, you've lucked out."

"No. No. No. This is wrong. Stop this."

Carlisle sighs for what seems the thousandth time. "I'll ask you once more, Jordan, why are you receiving this spanking?"

"Because you and your thick head aren't listening to me when I'm asking you to stop!"

This particular remark earns me two sharp smacks on both buttocks. _Five_, I count in my head, trying to make this as objective as possible. I stare at my hands and remind myself to re-polish the nails on my right hand or to ask Alice to do them for me.

"Try again."

I take a deep breath. "Because I went to the principal's office to take care of school stuff."

Another four swats follow shortly after my answer, each one landing much faster and harder than the last.

"What sort of school stuff, Jordan?"

"Signature stuff."

"Correct."

He smacks me six times right in the center of my butt and I have to bite my lip to keep from making a sound at this point. Who knew he had such power in that arm of his?

"You are to bring anything that needs to be signed directly to us, understood?"

"Yes, Carlisle," I grunt through the impact of the descending strikes. _Twenty_.

"What else did you do?"

"I... Uh..."

A swift swat lands on my right cheek as I think on my reply, probably to make me think faster, but the only thing I can think right now is how ridiculous the act is. How is smacking someone on the ass supposed to make them think faster?

"How about impersonating someone who never gave you the permission to do so?"

"Well, I'm sorry Carlisle, but it was only for a min-AH! What the fuck was that for?!"

He smacks me again, lower this time, and it hurts like a bitch. "Language, young lady!" he chastises. "And that was for being a smart-ass. How about showing some true remorse for taking on my appearance without my permission?"

Before I can even apologize, he smacks me ten times in rapid succession and I realize that it hurts so much more because he's swatting that horribly sensitive spot where buttcheek and thigh meet. _Thirty-two_.

"I'm sorry, Carlisle!"

"Not yet, little one, but you will be. What about the other students?"

"What about them? AH! OW! Fu-stop it!" _Thirty-five_.

"We still don't know what the effects of using your gift can be! For all we know, it could have severe consequences for those around you!"

"Like what?" I realize the snarky tone I have taken on a second too late and my butt feels like it's on fire by the time he's dealt out the following five strokes.

"As long as you don't have complete control over your gift, you do NOT use it in public, do you understand me young lady?!"

_FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK THAT HURTS FUCK IT!_ "Ah! Urk! Mmph!"

The fiftieth stroke nearly has me in tears but I manage to flick my eyes upwards to keep them at bay. My bum is seriously burning something fierce at this point and I wonder how the others put up with this. Especially without me noticing anything.

"Yes, I understand you! Please, Carlisle, stop."

"Almost done, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that while you're doing this!"

But he doesn't seem to listen to me and continues the spanking with the strength of a madman. At least, it feels that way to me.

"Ah! Shit! Stop!"

By the sixty-fifth stroke he takes a break and says, gently, "Jordan... you have to let it out."

"What?!"

"You- you've got to cry, Jordan."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" I snarl, and he responds with five sharp smacks to the backs of my thighs.

"Ah! Fuck! Knock it off!"

Ten more lead-hard spanks lash down across my buttocks and I have to bite my tongue to keep from screaming like a child.

"You - will - control - your - temper!"

_Eighty-five. It must stop now. It must. _

"Yes, Carlisle. I'm sorry, I promise. Please - please just stop."

He seems torn between letting me have my way and making me cry and for the life of me I don't know why he needs to see the venom tears so badly.

"Are you going to heed my words?" he asks, and I nod quickly, receiving a sharp smack in return.

"Yessir!"

"I need your word, dear."

"Yes, yes, I promise!"

Four more sharp, painful swats, and he ends it, attempting to rub the stinging flesh soothingly but I jerk back instantly and pull away from him.

"Ssshhh," he tries to calm me, but I'm pressing against his legs with my palms, trying to get into an upright position.

"It's over, yes? Let me up, please."

He looks a little hurt, but allows it all the same, and I immediately slip my leggings up over the blazing cheeks. I head toward the exit, turn around swiftly, mumble a "I'm sorry Carlisle, it won't happen again" and head for my room to lick my wounds in solitude.


	10. Chapter 10: I'm sorry

Okay, I still feel pretty weird after having posted the previous chapter, since, obviously, it's a pretty odd thing to write if it's your very first time writing about it. For some reason, it seems even harder to write than romantic fics. Probably because I am seriously incapable of imagining myself in a similar situation. Seriously. I think I'd suffer from severe trauma. I'm such a '90s kid. Anyway, on with the story!

* * *

Carlisle's P.O.V.!

* * *

I can't believe I did that.

No, I _can_ believe that I did it, I just can't believe that I did it _wrong_.

Why didn't she cry and yearn for my affection? Why didn't she feel guilty and horrible for not abiding by the rules when I addressed her with 'my dear' and 'sweetheart'? How could she just walk away after this and not care that I feel horrible for having to do that to her? Doesn't she know how much I need to hold her right now? How badly I want to be the one she latches on to when she's in distress?

I must go to her. I must set this right.

* * *

Her room is dark when I step inside. If not for the pale moonlight shining in, I wouldn't have spotted her at all. Contrary to my other children, who immediately collapse onto their stomachs on their beds, she's hunched in a corner of the room, fisting her hair in her hands and leaning her forehead on the wall. It takes me a while to recognize the sniffling sounds for what they are and for a swell of hope to rise in my chest. Perhaps she will allow me to hold her now.

I head over to her and sit down behind her, reaching out to rest a hand on her shoulder first. She jumps a little and presses her face closer to the wall, but I'm having none of that. I enclose an arm around her waist and pull her back against my chest, making soft shushing sounds when the muffled gasps escape her lips.

When I turn her around to face me, though, she tries to pull away. Luckily, knowledge and routine acount to more than her newborn strength and I manage to get her to settle down in my lap, making sure that none of her weight is rested on her behind. "Shh, it's okay. Let it out, sweetheart. I'm here. It's okay."

But instead of crying harder, the whimpers reduce to sniffles until she's just trying to get me to release her again. I'm honestly at my wits' end with this one. I hold on a little tighter. "Sshh, settle down, little one." I stroke her back and the nape of her neck, willing her to calm. Surely enough, she releases a deep breath of air and rests her forehead on my collarbone, clutching the front of my shirt with her tiny fists.

"It hurts," she manages to say inbetween gulps of breath, and I immediately feel a pang of regret welling in my chest. I knew it, I went too heavy on her. It was her very first time; I should have been gentler, should have been more understanding. Should have had a better reason to punish her that way. She begged me not to, told me clearly why I shouldn't. Oh no. I can't believe I did it, anyway. I can't believe I actually thought doing that to her - and to such an extent, no matter how strong she is in body - could be a fair thing. She's still broken in mind and spirit. I shouldn't have hurt her so.

"I know," I somehow manage to say anyway, "I'm sorry little one. It hurt me more than you." I want to lay a cold hand on the warm cloth-clad skin but feel it would be better not to overstep my bounds any more tonight.

"Not there," she replies, though. "I...I miss them." The venom tears have returned to her sunshine-bronze eyes, making them glisten in a sad way. "It... I-..." But she can't speak. The hurt is too great. Instead, she buries her face in my shirt again and sobs and sobs until she's wailing and near hyper-ventilation, even though she doesn't need the oxygen in the first place.

Feeling helpless, I try to cradle her body and soothe her, threading my fingers through her hair and smoothing my thumb across her brow, running my palms down her trembling back, kissing the side of her head and murmuring soothing nothingness as I rock her petite frame gently.

It takes a while, but she slumps against me in the end, fatigued, spiritless, and out of tears.

"I love you, little one." It's the first time I've told her this, and it feels appropriate to say it now that she needs to hear the words the most. She sniffs loudly and nods, replying with a cracked voice, "You too," but I can hear the implication behind her words - 'only not in that way'. She'll never see me as her father, because she had already had one in her human life. No matter how much she disagreed with his methods and could be irritated by the man, she would never consider anyone else her father. But that's alright for now. So long as she allows me to consider her one of my daughters, I'll accept her feelings on the matter.

"I just-" but no more words leave her mouth as she strains to keep the sobs at a minimum. At last, a keening wail escapes her lips and she cries, "I want my mom," in such a heartfelt, deep way, voice cracking as she calls for her mother in her heart. And I understand her. I understand how she needs her best friends by her side. I understand her loneliness, for I have had to suffer it myself a long time ago. Up until I turned Edward, I had not been able to exist peacefully, in harmony with myself and what I wanted. Jordan is going through something similar, but I am sure that in a few months or so she'll come to realise that we're not just a coven, but a family.

"I p-promised! I pro-mised I would-would always-!" But the sobs interrupt her again as she focuses on everything she's lost. She promised she would always be there for her mother, would always be sure to call home if she were to stay out late, would always be sure to tell her to be safe before she left the house... There must have been a thousand things she'd promised her mother she'd do, and at least half of them turned out to be promises broken. But I simply couldn't allow her to relinquish her rights to a better existence if it were in my capable hands to grant her as much.

"Sshh... It's going to be alright, Joe. I swear."

"She said- she said the same thing over an-and over again, too, and, and look where I am n-now!"

Nothing else that left her mouth could have hurt me more. "I'm sorry, Jordan. I'm sorry I did what I believed was right without consulting you. And I'm sorry I did it again. I shouldn't have done it."

She looks up at me and snorts softly. "Please. It hurt a bit, but I hardly feel it anymore."

"That's the newblood in you speaking. Wait a couple of months and you'll be singing an entirely different tune."

"You mean you'd do it again?"

I panic. How can I promise her I would never punish her again?

"Well, Jordan, you can't promise me you'll never need to be put back in line again."

"But... But there are so many other methods of-" She breaks off and sighs. "Nevermind. If you think it's normal, who am I to tell you how weird I think it is?"

"Weird?"

"Yeah. Extremely. I just can't wrap my head around the whole concept."

"You mean physical castigation in general or this method in particular?" I must admit that discussing this with a teenager is a little bit awkward, but I would take this over the tears and helplessness of mere seconds prior.

"Well... both. I don't know why people would hurt their child for doing something that they, personally, find lacking in common sense. I just don't see how hitting someone is going to keep them from doing what they think is right, anyway. If anything, it just makes me angry."

"Are you angry right now?"

"Well, yeah. You wouldn't listen to me."

"But would you say you're more disappointed in me than angry?"

"I suppose."

"And don't you feel like hitting me back for doing what I did to you?" I don't let her respond, because I'm on a roll and I know for sure that she would just say 'no', even if she really felt like punching me in the face. "Well, that's how a parent usually feels when they use corporal punishment on their child. You should never administer it in anger. Only disappointment and fear. You may think I just disciplined you for not showing us your test scores, but even I, the big ogre, had a better reason than that. I was afraid, Joe. I was afraid that your gift would fail you and we'd be discovered. And as much as I was afraid for my family, I was afraid for you the most. Because I knew what that would do to you. It would drive you to such guilt and devastation that you would not be able to cope with the misery in the end. And I don't ever want you to feel that way, because it means I have failed as a p- as your guardian."

_Damn it, Carlisle! She doesn't want you to be her father, just let it go already! You have six people in your life who consider you family, why can't you be grateful for what you have?_

"Carlisle?"

"Yes?"

"...Thank you. And I'm sorry. I really am. I never meant to scare you like that."

"It's alright, dear. Just make sure not to do it again."

She throws me a look and says, "I'm sure I'll make sure not to ever have to have a repeat of emthat/em."

I laugh. "Oh, Joe, if only you knew how many times the others have said that." She seems uncomfortable with the idea of her brothers and sisters saying anything of the sort.

"Would you rather not talk about that?" I ask.

"Well, it's really weird to picture Edward or Jasper or Emmett... you know..."

"Across my knee?"

If she had the blood to do so, she would be blushing all the way up to the roots of her hair, I can tell.

I smile gently and pass a hand through her hair. "You know what the weirdest part is, though?" I murmur, as though telling her some disgusting little secret.

"Hm?"

"You took it a hell of a lot better than they did."

* * *

Aaaaaaaaand here's the reason why I came to enjoy reading spank-fics. Well, obviously I still kinda skim over the actual corporal punishment part, but I just get this warm and gooey feeling in my chest when I read what comes afterwards. It's just so... Well, if anyone were to do that to me, I'd be so mortified that I couldn't even look at them anymore after such an experience. I'd be like 'get the fuck out of my life'. But in stories... well... It's just so adorable when they can look past that and be all mushy and spazzy and like 'let's make peace between us'. Aawww...


	11. Chapter 11: Pseudologia fantastica

Jasper's P.O.V.

* * *

Too many emotions.

There are just too many emotions running through Jordan's body. It's like I'm reliving one of the worst days of my new life as a vampire in which I had been surrounded by human females whose emotions were running wild. Back then, it had nearly caused me to tear their throats open, but that's another story for another day.

Miss Walker, who is now known by several nicknames, like, "Jordy", "Danny", "Shrimp", "Shorty", "Little J", "Whelp", "Kiddo", etcetera, is made up of a plethora of emotions which keep juggling back and forth between the most obscenely short intervals I've ever felt. One moment she's peaceful and quiescent, and the next she's on the verge of hyperventilating, even though she doesn't even to breathe.

What she feels the most, though, is melancholy. She misses her family and her past life, the way all newborns do, except her heart seems to be anchored even more strongly in the home she can never return to. More strongly even than Emmett's or Edward's.

I realize that it was easier for those of us who found their soulmate instantly, but Edward still hasn't found the one yet and he's managing fine. Then again, Carlisle _had_ been on his own when he turned Edward. Perhaps Jordan just doesn't feel needed or necessary to the family the way we all did. I mean, it's not like I really feel like I'm an important part of the household, but at least I know they accept me and that I'm the most important person in Alice's life. I know I'm wanted and needed.

And I also know that she is. I just wonder if she knows.

Another strong wave of discontent reaches me and I get to my feet, deciding that enough is enough. I walk out into the garden barefoot, because I'm finally comfortable enough around this family to loosen up a little when it comes to stuck-up etiquette, and head over to the girl sitting in the grass, leaning her elbows on crossed legs and gazing at nothing in particular.

She looks shocked when she sees me hunch down in front of her, but I don't say a word so neither does she. I place my palm against her forehead and close my eyes, channeling the negative energy out of her and replacing it with calm and positivity.

She seems to be sighing out her grief when her body suddenly deflates like she had been holding the weight of the world on her shoulders. I stand back up again and she watches me with serious, calculating eyes.

"Why did you do that?" she asks.

"Because I can," I reply easily, quirking up the corners of my mouth quickly before heading back to the house.

* * *

Alice is elated when she enters our room with a spring in her step and a bounce of her hair and she half-dances over to me and kisses me.

"What's up?" I ask, basking in her happiness.

"It's Edward!" she replies, smiling wickedly. "I had a vision of him and this girl at our school."

"A human girl?"

"Yes! She's kind of normal-looking, wouldn't pop out in a crowd, but she has something about her... I think it's the nose... or maybe the way her eyes look when she talks... anyway, point is, I think Edward has an eye on her!"

I want to be as happy as my pixie-like mate, but somehow I just have a feeling that Edward is making a big mistake with this human.

"Doesn't that sound fantastic, Jazzy?"

"Um, yeah. Yeah, amazing."

"You don't sound amazed," she replies, frowning slightly. "You don't think her being human is going to cause a problem, do you?"

Ah, my Alice. Ever so perceptive.

"Well, of course I do, Ali. She's too frail. We could bump into her and crack her ribs. Then she would catch on immediately. And besides, it's not like Edward is planning to turn anyone into a vampire any time soon, so... it's kind of a toilet plan."

"And here I was, thinking I was about to make a new friend. How silly of me."

"Awh, now come on Alice, don't make me feel guilty for voicing my opinion."

"Guilty? Whatever for?" Alice asks, smirking. She pushes me down onto the mattress and settles herself ontop of me, kissing me passionately.

Her playfulness coils in the pit of my stomach and sends jitters down my spine.

* * *

"Jasper, down here please," Carlisle calls from downstairs. I hasten to obey, as I have never quite been able to shake that particular habit. Alice snorts when I rush to my feet but I ignore her and head down the stairs quickly.

Carlisle is standing by the front-door, spinning his car-keys around his index finger.

"Yes sir?"

"Jordan would like to go to the bookstore and I know that you enjoy reading, so I was wondering if you would like to go with us."

Oh. Not an order. Whew.

"Uh, yes sir, I would like that very much. I'll just go tell Alice."

But before I can even make a move toward the stairs Alice shouts, "Have fun!" with a sort of mirth in her voice as if she were aware of every move in my life and simply enjoyed being humored by the audacity of my claim of complete control.

"Right. Okay, all set, Carlisle."

"Okay, Jordan's already in the car. Let's go."

* * *

Her mounting agitation disappears the moment we enter the bookstore. When she unnecessarily inhales, she seems to lose all of the irritation that she had soaked up in her sponge-like body and when she exhales, all of her sorow leaves her as well.

As I hunt down the book on the second world war I had been meaning to read, I can feel her excitement as she sniffles through the aisles. When Carlisle walks over to me discreetly, pretending to check out a book I know he would never enjoy, and asks softly, "How is she?" I reply with a slight smirk on my face, "Excited," and am pleased to note that he's smiling, too.

"Good."

I return my attention to the back of the book, decide it's not worth my limitless while, and spot a book with better pictures in it on display on the top shelf. I glance around quickly before jumping quickly to reach it and allow my eyes to feast on images of scenarios I've seen unfold right in front of me many times before.

I flip through the pages for a while, mostly just soaking up the calm atmosphere. Carlisle seems to be doing the same thing, until he hears something and turns around quickly, leaving me standing there wondering like an idiot what just happened. I follow him to the back of the library (the sci-fi section, why am I not surprised?) where Jordan is standing, looking for all the world calm and collected. But Carlisle seems to hear something I can't and immediately envelopes her in his arms for a reason yet unknown to me. And then my stupid supposedly-vampire eyes finally see the way her straight brown hair turns blonde and curly and her green eyes turn bright blue.

"What happened?" I whisper.

Carlisle cocks his head to the side just a tad before whispering quietly to Jordan and I look around the bookstore for some sort of threat. Then I hear the muttering.

_"Wasn't that Jordan?"_

_"I could have sworn it was her."_

_"Am I hallucinating?"_

_"No, love, I saw her, too."_

"Sh, dear , it's okay, just calm down."

She's struggling for air (breathing has become a habit of hers) and pressing the heels of her hands against her cheekbones to stop the flow of venom tears and it suddenly hits me that this is the first normal thing in her vampire life that she had actually become quite excited about that was ruined simply because she's no longer who (or what) she used to be.

It makes me want to scare the two people off and make sure they never come back to this bookstore but one glance from Carlisle keeps me rooted firmly to the spot. Unfortunately, one could not say the same about young Walker.

Before either of us know what she's doing, she's flying out of Carlisle's hold and hollering toward the two old people several aisles behind us. "Gram, pop!"

"No!" I utter, chasing her but making sure not to run inhumanly fast. She is not being as careful as I and for a second I fear we might be found out, but then I remember we're in the middle of one of the least-popular bookstores in one of the least-popular towns in one of the least-popular states.

"Jordan?" I can hear an old lady's voice ask, completely and utterly smothered in sickeningly tearful hope, and I bite my tongue harshly, grabbing her by the collar just as she reaches her grandparents.

"Amanda!" I scold, "You know better than to run off like that, sis'."

Jordan appears to have forgotten that she is not in her original state and that she has taken on the appearance of a young blonde teen. It doesn't seem to stop her from doing something stupid, though.

"Gram, pop, it's me!"

I give her a kick to the shin but it doesn't derail her from her path. "I've missed you guys so much! I'm- I'm so sorry, I never thought things would turn out this way, I thought I would be able to celebrate New Years with you and go on that family camping trip next year and-"

But then, thank goodness, Carlisle shows up, pulling out his new hospital I.D. card and cleverly covering up his name with his thumb.

"Amanda Brooks, that is quite enough. I'm sorry, sir, m'am, we thought she'd outgrown this habit. I'm doctor Jameson from Forks hospital, and this is one of my patients, miss Amanda Brooks. Amanda, you should know better. Apologize to these kind people for trying to fool them into thinking you were their granddaughter.

"Pseudologia fantastica," he adds in a whisper, "compulsive lying."

"Oh," the woman manages to push through her lips, sounding so lifeless compared to a couple seconds ago.

I give Jordan's shoulder a nudge but she seems at a complete loss for words.

"Sis', say you're sorry."

"Uh-y-yes, I'm very sorry." She's quite obviously incapable of saying any more and Carlisle doesn't push it. But then, when the two people look like all the happiness has been sucked out of their lives, she repeats her words, only with such sorrow that the emotion spills out of her and nearly leaks out of her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Her voice is trembling and I can tell that she wants nothing more than to change back into her former self and throw herself into their arms and feel happy and warm and safe. But she can't.

She can't.

"Come on, little one," I say, because I know it is the only nickname she seems to carry in her heart.

She follows me numbly, and I can hear Carlisle explaining the after-effects of some or other psychiatric condition, but it's not as though either of us really care, so I bring her out to the car and have her sit down on the back seat with the door open. I hunch down in front of her and grab one of her hands between both of my own, concentrating on the ball of misery and depression inside of her and trying my hardest to replace it with feelings of calm and belonging.

"I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Jasper."

"Sshh, don't be," I reply, pushing some loose strands of hair behind her ear.

"No, I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have called out to them, I shouldn't have told them-" she seems to suddenly realize just what she had lost the moment she became a vampire and joined our cov-family. I meant family.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the dams break and the tears begin to flow. She covers her face with her hands and for the first time since her turning, she doesn't breathe. The realization of this fact seems to hurt her all the more, and she clenches her hands into tight little fists that she presses against her eyes.

"I never meant for this to happen." The words bear more weight than one would think at first hearing them, and I realize that she means more than just running into her grandparents and trying to let them know it was her.

Carlisle walks out, then, and heads straight for the car, handing me his keys and wordlessly asking me to make the drive home.

"We need to talk," he says to Jordan, and fear spikes in my stomach. It takes me a moment to realize that it's a combination of both mine and hers and I do my best to calm us both back down.

"We'll take the shortcut through the woods. I would like to speak with you later, Jasper."

A lump of anxiety manages to return to the back of my throat and I nod stiffly. "Yessir."

I give the two of them a wary look but I know better than to ask Carlisle from refraining from being too harsh on the girl. Chances are he's not planning to be even medium-harsh on her and the moment I say something, I just screw everything up for both of us 'cause then he's going to think that he _should_ be harsh on her and really, what did she ever do that even deserved a talking-to? What did _I_ do that deserves a talking-to? Oh no. What if this is about last week? I knew I shouldn't have accepted that dare from Emmett! Stupid lug of a vampire always getting these crazy ideas involving toilet paper...

"Son?"

I look up quickly. "Yes sir?"

Carlisle places a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Chill."

I know he says it to put a smile on my face, because, hell, who woulda' thought Carlisle could say 'chill'? But still... what if he's just trying to get me to calm down so he can go ahead and punish Jordan for God-knows-what?

"Jasper, seriously, you're making all of us nervous and there really is no reason for it. Why don't you drive home and tell your mother that we're going to be a little late and we'll see you there soon."

I nod again. I think I can manage that.

I get into the driver's seat and watch Carlisle sling an arm around little J's shoulders, walking off in the direction of the forest. I rev up the engine and try to 'chill' as Carlisle suggested but for some reason, I'm still worried that Carlisle's going to be overly harsh on her the way he was last time. Because, yes, no matter how far away you are, you'll still always hear a close one's pain. And I felt the hurt that swallowed her whole after he was done.

The thought suddenly makes me come to the realization that I consider Jordan as a real part of the family. Not that I hadn't from the start, but, well... in my opinion, one really has to earn their place in a family. I think I speak for every Cullen when it comes down to that. Well, probably with the exception of Esme. Which is weird because she seems to be the only one Jordan can't be found alone in the same room with for over an hour.

Hm. Perhaps Alice knows more about this.

_Or_, I can stop worrying about the kid's life and do my own thing. Yeah, that sounds good. I _will_ go see Alice. And perhaps she'll know what we can do for 'fun'.

* * *

Alice and I are stepping out of the shower when I hear the front-door closing and I smell the entrance of our coven leader and newling. She giggles as I throw a big towel around the both of us and she wraps us up snugly, pressing up against my body and I can imagine the heat that used to course through her limbs as a human.

We stumble to the bed and nearly trip and fall but I catch us quickly and support my mate as she giggle hysterically. I honestly don't know what's so funny about falling, but hey, she's my wife. I know better than to ask her.

"Jasper, would you come see me in my office?"

Holy crap that scared the shit out of me.

"Jazzy? Did you do something wrong?" Alice asks, searching my face for some sign of petulance or remorse.

"No. At least, I don't think so. I dunno, ma sweet, I'll go see."

"Well put some pants on first, unless it's one of _those_ trips to Carlisle's office."

It's a poor attempt at lifting my spirits, since I have never appreciated that form of discipline in the Cullen household, but I smile at my Alice nonetheless, heartened by her consideration.

I throw on some clothes and reply,"I doubt it's one of those, darlin'." And yet my unbeating heart seems to thrum heavily in my chest when I make my way over to our coven leader's office.

I knock on the door and wait for him to call me in before standing ram-rod still with my hands neatly folded behind my back. "Is there a problem, sir?"

Carlisle chuckles lightly. "No need for the formalities, my boy." It's not the first time he's said it, but it's a hard habit for me to break. As if to demonstrate this fact, my shoulders droop slightly but my arms remain locked where they are and my feet stay shoulder-width apart.

"Jasper, seriously, there's no need to be so nervous. I wanted to talk to you today about how well you handled Jordan's situation. The speed in which you dealt with everything was the necessary push we needed to convince her grandparents that it wasn't her."

"Really?" I ask, not quite convinced that this is the only point to the conversation.

"Yes, really. Thank you for being there for her, son. I'm sure Jordan really appreciates your presence in times like those."

I nod. "No problem, sir."

He gives me an affectionate smile and for some reason it makes something long-forgotten burn like a furnace in my chest. "Uhm, if that's all sir..?" I state, asking permission to leave. He nods gently and I make my way to the door, but then he calls out to me, "Oh and Jasper, one more thing."

"Yes, sir?"

"Please drop the formalities."

"Alright s-Carlisle."

"Thanks."

I leave the study feeling a little lighter than I felt before.


	12. Chapter 12: True Mother

Esme's P.O.V.!

* * *

"Hello dear," Carlisle greets me when he steps in with Jordan. Jasper had returned home before them and when I'd asked him why that was the case, he'd told me that Carlisle needed to discuss something with Jordan before they returned home. I'd been just as worried as Jasper seemed about the discussion the two apparently needed to have, but now that I see the two of them enter the house looking just as fine as they did this morning, I realize that my worries were for naught.

"Hey doctor," I reply, allowing him to wrap his arms around my waist and kiss me softly on the lips. Jordan doesn't seem put off by it, nor does she fake mild disgust the way the other kids do. For some reason, this sort of worries me. Perhaps she doesn't feel like she has to fake annoyance at our displayed love because she believes it isn't real, anyway. I don't really know why I feel this pressing need to keep proving myself in front of the girl, but then again I also don't know why she seems to be constantly avoiding me. It's almost like she just can't stand the mere sight of me. Which is odd, because, for as far as I know, I'm usually the one the kids always seem to flock around if they need some simple peace of mind. When they want to have a serious discussion, they usually go to Carlisle. But when it comes to kind words and happily shared advice, I'm normally the one they seek. But then why does it seem like Jordan can't breathe the same air I breathe? Metaphorically speaking, of course.

"How was the bookstore? Find anything good to read?" I venture to ask, and immediately regret it when I see Jordan's eyes divert to the floorboards and the tips of her hair start to curl, like she's fighting the instinct to hide away from me.

"Perhaps we'll find something next time," Carlisle tries to save the tension from reaching its vertex. But from the look on Jordan's face, I can conclude that there will be no next time. Jordan has officially banned herself from ever setting foot inside that store again. The moment she's out of ear-shot, I plan on discussing this with my husband. Which will be hard considering that she's just growing out of being a newborn and probably still has extra-enhanced hearing.

"I'll go uhm..." Jordan starts, but it's quite obvious that she's just trying to get away from me. She doesn't know whether to go to her room or not, though, which confuses me. Is she concerned about calling it 'her' room or is she wondering whether she's allowed to leave yet or not?

"Why don't you go ask Rose and Emmett if they want to go hunting with you? I'm sure you're very hungry by now," Carlisle suggests. The wording puts her off but she manages to nod and smile quickly before jumping to the chance of exiting the room.

"What happened?" I whisper, but Carlisle puts a finger to his lips and points in Jordan's direction. I can read in his eyes that the girl can still hear everything we say, even if we whisper.

"I'm going to go to my office for a sec and speak with Jasper. He did very well today."

Of course my lover wants to let his son know how proud he is of him. It seems like an obvious thing to me, but I wonder how worried Jasper will be when Carlisle calls him over to his study. Poor boy will probably look like a deer caught in headlights. He can get so anxious, that one.

"We can talk about what happened after, okay?"

Basically he wants to wait until Jordan has left the house. I smile warmly at him. "Of course, dear."

* * *

Once Jasper has left Carlisle's office, looking somewhat relieved and less burdened than he was earlier thank heavens, I slip in and shut the door behind me, settling myself on the doctor's lap and kissing his forehead just above the brow.

"Stressful day?" I ask.

"Quite shockingly so, for a simple trip to the bookstore."

"How'd Jasper take your praise?"

He sighs. "Well, let's just say he hasn't quite given up on his soldier's conduct."

I frown lightly and he instantly smooths his hand across my cheek. "But, all things considering, I think he was really relieved that I didn't call him in here to discuss where he went wrong today in detail."

"About that – why did you need to call Jasper into your office, anyway? I mean, I understand that Jordan might have said or done something wrong, but why was Jasper of such great help? What would you need his assistance for? Unless she suddenly had an attack." It's not unheard of – Rosalie had had an attack not that long after being changed and had rushed to the forest to find a prey to feed on. Something inside of me is still endlessly proud of her for rushing into the forest instead of heading straight for the city, especially in the state she was in.

"No-no. It wasn't anything that drastic. Though it was quite, well, emotional. She saw her grandparents. Or, at least, her grandparents saw her – heard her, that is. They were talking about it in hushed tones, but of course Jordan heard it anyway, and after trying to calm down didn't work she rushed over to them and tried to explain how she was their granddaughter." Carlisle gets a pained look on his face before continuing, "She kept repeating how sorry she was and how things hadn't worked out the way she wanted them to."

I card my fingers through his hair soothingly and nod affectionately at him to show him I understand and that I'm here for him.

"So Jasper and I intervened. He took her to the car as I finished talking to them but I couldn't get the image of Jordan's panic-stricken expression out of my head. The way she looked after she realised what she'd done to her grandparents – how she'd made them believe that it was truly her and then had had to take that hope away again, making them relive their loss – it was truly heartbreaking. When I went outside and found Jasper trying to get her emotions back under control I told him to go on ahead and meet us back at the house so I could have a word with her.

"We wound up taking a walk through the forest and I told her about her options. I- I told her that she could either stay with us, or we could bring her to a different coven. And that if she didn't choose either of those options that we-" he swallows nonexistant saliva and I wonder if perhaps venom had started to pool in his mouth from stress, "we would have to..."

"No. No, Carlisle, you didn't tell her that!"

"It's the truth, Esme."

"You couldn't! How could you tell her to basically choose between us, total strangers, or to be burned alive?!"

"I had to tell her. If not, she probably would have tried to drown herself or something in the end."

"How do you know that?!" I am aggravated that he would consider her thoughts that dark and depressing on impulse instead of asking Jasper about it, first. I'm sure that if her emotions were bordering on suicidal that he would have told us something. Or Edward would have intervened, surely.

"I'm her leader, Esme."

"You're her _father_," I snarl in reply. I don't care what any of those kids decide to call us, I know that I consider each and every one of them my child and that Carlisle thinks the exact same way about them. If he wants to be overly concerned about what they would think if they knew that they thought us their parents, then fine for him. I know that when my children need their momma I'm there for them. And that's all I need.

"Think what you will, Esme darling, but she doesn't see me as her father. And right now, I'm not asking her to. As long as she doesn't need a father figure in her life, I won't push it on her. She needed to know what her options were. She needed to be told, not as a child, or a teenager, but as a member of this coven. It's in our nature to demand more and to expect to be respected, especially at such a self-absorbed and impulsive state as the newborn phase. I didn't want her to think that we had introduced her to a life of misery just because we decided that having another member in our family was a nice idea."

"I agree with you, Carlisle, but she still needs to know that she's important to us. That we need her in our family. I don't want her to think that she relies on us too strongly for everything, that she just takes and takes and that she gives us nothing in return. We require her love and happiness."

He smiles as he kisses me. "Spoken like a true mother."

"Well I am, aren't I?" I smile back coyly and he nips playfully at my lip. I get up off his lap and settle back down on the sofa over at the glass wall. "Perhaps, doctor, you should prove to me what a leader you are for this coven." He instantly rises from his chair and loosens his tie.

"If you prove yourself unworthy, I might have to fight you for dominance."

"I will try my best to impress, then."

"Oh you'd better."

* * *

When the kids – young adults, really, if I have to refer to their physical age – return from their hunt, it wouldn't surprise me if everyone in the entire state can hear it. Emmett barges in demanding to play some sort of game on that xbox of his with Jordan to prove that he is better at it than her and Rosalie tsks and cuffs her lover upside the head loud enough for the sound to echo around the house. I'll never get over how weird it is to touch a fellow vampire and feel solid rock-like skin beneath my fingers. Jordan looks much happier than before as she picks up a remote and starts pressing random buttons even though Emmett keeps telling her it won't make a difference because he's got the main controller.

"Well let me pick a team first because you got to choose first the last three times and you always leave me with the guys that have those weird weapons that don't work the way they're supposed to."

"They work the way they're supposed to, little J, it's you who just can't figure out what they're supposed to be doing."

They sticks her tongue out at him. "Well since you know how to work with those dudes, why don't you choose them? Unless you're just lying to me about all your know-how and professionalism."

I can tell that Emmett is allowing himself to be tricked but it's cute to see him go along with her, anyway.

"Oh yeah? Well watch and learn, lil' sis."

She smirks and says, "I'll definitely be able to beat your gamma03negative butt now."

"That doesn't even mean anything," he replies.

"It's the name of your team."

"No, that's some loser's username who thinks he's awesome and decides to tell us all about his lovely travels in the chat box. Don't pay any attention to it. It's not wonder you keep losing if your eyeballs keep rolling over to some girly comment box."

"What's girly about a comment box?"

"It's a shooting game. 'Nough said."

She shrugs and nods her head like she sees his point and then her eyes focus on the flashy violence on the TV-screen. I smile at their antics and Rose, who's lounging on the sofa near her mate reading a magazine, catches my eye and smiles back at me. Of course she's thinking about the same thing I am. It wouldn't surprise me if she sees herself as a sort of mother figure for Jordan, given that she has been dying to have a child of her own for decades now, and in a way I'm happy that she's taken on that roll because for some reason that isn't the case for me.

"Anyone feel up to helping me bake cookies for the school bake sale?" I ask, suddenly motivated to try and get Jordan to open up to me even if it is to say something like, 'The smell of that would really make me barf, now.' But all I hear is Emmett's, "Nah, screw the school."

"Jordan?" I press on, determined to get an answer out of the girl.

"No thanks, Esme."

Emmett's gaze redirects from the screen to Jordan's face in shock but she doesn't seem to notice. I suppose she doesn't realize how weird it is for anyone around here to hear my name coming from anyone but Carlisle. Normally I'm 'mom' or 'm'am' or 'foxy mama'. Not Esme.

"Alright, perhaps another time. Do you feel like going shopping with me and the girls, tomorrow? Alice tells me you've been needing some new boots for a while, now." Okay perhaps it's a lie, since, if Alice decides that someone needs something she buys it straight away without even really asking, but heck I need to bond with this kid before she decides to push me away completely!

"Mm, no thanks." She doesn't offer me any more of an explanation than that and Rosalie nudges her arm with her toe, saying, "Come on, I'll take you to the Marc Jacobs store and we can leave those two oldies to gab about American Idol as they sift through tummy tuckers. Then we can regroup at the starbucks and stare at the cute guy behind the counter." I have never seen Rose put that much effort into getting anyone to socialize except Emmett on his darker days (yes he is capable of having those) and I must admit it fills me with an unnerving jealousy when Jordan shrugs and says, "Alright, I'll think about it. Can I let you know tomorrow morning?"

"'Course, shortie."

I sigh and exit the room, feeling more let-down than I have in centuries.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I hope these two chapters made up for it :)


End file.
